#but was i expecting it while reading this chapter? honestly no
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sharp dressed man - matty healy
[this isn't beta read in the slightest, i couldn't bring myself to care and i was high writing most of this so i apologise for any mistakes.]
wc: ~4.5k
cw: as always mentions of anxiety and insecurity, smut, matty wanks in the shower and has reader watch]
singularity series chapter 2 | prev
Watching Matty dance around your kitchen with Sharp Dressed Man by ZZ Top playing in the background, wearing tight pink booty shorts that say ‘Juicy’ across the arse, wasn’t how you thought you’d spend your Sunday morning but here you are. As funny as you thought it would be to give him those shorts last night, wanting to take the piss out of him, you guess you forgot who you were dealing with. Because he is walking around with a kick in his step, like he’s the hottest thing since sliced bread.
This really backfired.
When you handed him those shorts last night, he gave you a sly look as if he was accepting a challenge and you were too tired to decipher what he was plotting in that head of his. Much to Matty’s whining you did not sleep naked, you could have sworn you killed his non existent pets over how pouty he was over it. You do not sleep naked, it is far too uncomfortable for you. The more clothes the better.
He hasn’t tried to kiss you again, or touch you at all really and you hate the fact that that’s all that’s been looping around in your head since you woke up. Flashes going through your mind of the sounds of his panting and moans, how he felt - it makes your stomach tighten and you damn near chew through your cheek trying to make the thoughts go away. Things were far easier when you wanted to kick him in the balls. This feels complicated now.
You honestly thought you’d be having more of a meltdown over this, you were so terrified of human contact for many years that you thought you’d crumble if it happened again. What you weren’t expecting was that you would enjoy it. The shorts are a good distraction though, you’ve been cycling through trying not to laugh and to not look at his arse - which he purposely keeps making sure is in your line of vision.
“...So, I was gonna make you breakfast but there is not really anything here - aside from toast, you want some toast?” He asks, looking at you over his shoulder from where he’s stood for five minutes inspecting your essentially empty pantry. There is usually not much food in the house unless it’s for you mum, or Loki. You usually don’t have the energy to eat and if you do it’s the bare minimum and easiest thing to grab. You used to love cooking. But like with everything else you used to enjoy, you can’t find it in you to care. “I’m not much of a breakfast person - help yourself to whatever is there, thank you though.”
Matty gives you a strange look, probably over the fact that you were actually being polite and not sarcastic, but the minute you notice you’ve been staring at his mouth again you look at the counter where you’re sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “What about you, Loki? You want some breakfast?” Matty calls out, while he collects some bread and peanut butter. Loki stares at Matty from where he’s sitting just outside the kitchen, then grunts and gets up to walk off.
You smile to yourself, watching Loki jump on the couch and ignore him completely, then look at Matty. “You’re in the dog house now, he’s pissed he had to sleep out here and you stayed in my bedroom.” Matty stares at Loki with a frown, looking genuinely upset but then goes towards the toaster to start to make himself something to eat. “I’ll make it up to him, he has to forgive me sooner or later.” He mumbles, which only makes you smile more. He really does sound upset that Loki is giving him the cold shoulder.
He can be pretty moody when he doesn’t get his way. You got the silent treatment for a whole day once because you had to throw out his toy that he’d ripped to pieces because you were worried he’d choke on it. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but he sure is your favourite colour. “Just get him some bacon, he’ll be your best friend again.” You assure him, resting your chin in your hand.
Matty just nods, staring at the toaster while he waits for it to pop, and as you watch him with his palm pressed flat against the counter, his hand on his hip and messy curls draped over his shoulders, you can’t help the question that tumbles out of your mouth.
“Why did you get divorced?”
You can’t help how much the fact Matty has been married fascinates you, because you just can’t picture it. And after the past couple of days, instead of fighting thoughts about him, it’s a million and one curious questions about him that swirl in your head. Matty glances at you, his brows lifting at the sudden random question but the toast pops and he pulls it out to start to butter it on a plate. “If I answer that, do I get to ask you something?”
You shrug your shoulders, still just watching him. “I guess.”
He purses his lips with another nod, grabbing his plate and making his way over to sit on the stool next to you. “I got divorced because my ex wife didn’t love me - Why’d you and Jonah break up?” The way he says that with such a casual tone, has your lips parting as you stare at the side of his face while he starts to chomp into a slice of toast with his elbows resting on the counter. You blink at him, confused by how unbothered he looks. “What do you mean she didn’t love you?”
“Uh-uh, that’s cheating. Answer my question first.” He tutts, licking at his lips to get remnants of peanut butter from them as his jaw flexes while he chews. “He broke up with me.” Matty cocks a brow. “Why?”
“No no, you answer my question first.” You throw back, using his own argument against him. Matty smirks to himself as he takes another bite from his toast and you can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s because for once you’re initiating the conversation, or trying to learn something about him. Maybe it’s because you sound interested. Or maybe he just really likes peanut butter, who knows.
“I was a way for my ex wife to piss off her parents. Like her act of rebellion. They were rich upper class snobs, and the last thing they wanted was their perfect, proper, princess of a daughter marrying some queer hairdresser - covered in tattoos and torn up clothes that spent his weekends at rock gigs and bars. She didn’t love me, just the idea of me. I actually don’t know if she cared about me at all to be perfectly honest.” Again, he sounds complacent about the whole thing. He may as well be describing his toast to you with how emotionless he sounds about it but that doesn’t stop your expression falling as you stare at him.
“She sounds like a bitch.” You state, and this makes Matty grin as he starts on his next slice of toast. He looks at you, nodding as he chews. “She kinda was, but it was one of the things that had me caught up on her. Treat em mean - keep em keen. You know how that works. Your turn now, fess up about that Jonah idiot.”
You pull your lips to the side, feeling your chest sink and dart your eyes down. “Not much to say, he just got everything he could from me - guess I stopped being useful. So he left.” Matty pauses his chewing, swallowing and leans his face down to get you to look at him. “He sounds like a dick.” Your own lips pull into a smile as you flick your eyes up to his and nod. “Yeah, he kinda was.”
Matty watches your face with a lopsided lazy smile, and taps his finger against the tip of your nose. “He didn’t deserve you in the first place, darling. He did you a favour, his loss not yours.” You don’t know how to respond to that, the sincerity of his tone made your stomach flip, so you cover it how you usually do.
“Well the fact he was a dick kept me away from actual dick the last two years, so yeah he kinda did me a favour. Gave me time for more important things - like eating the topping off pizza first.” You grin at Matty who rolls his eyes, laughing under his breath but he doesn’t say anything else and just goes back to eating. It feels oddly comfortable to sit with him. Your small conversation isn’t causing the usual crippling feeling inside of you it usually does. He isn’t that bad to talk to you guess, but you’re still caught off guard with the whole ex wife thing. You always think you have him totally figured out but you never do.
Matty stands from the stool, grabbing your hand to urge you to stand up and it’s only then you realise you’ve just been sitting there staring at him again while your mind goes in circles. You still can’t get over how comfortable he looks in those fucking shorts. “Where are we going?” You question with your brows dropping together. Matty gives you a cheerful look, but then keeps leading you towards the bathroom. “We are going to brush our teeth, like responsible adults - you got a spare one I can borrow?” You watch him with a puzzled look while you follow him. “Uh…yeah I do - but I don’t need you to hold my hand to do that.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He muses, ignoring the other part of your sentence and walks you to your bathroom, shutting the door behind you before going to lean against the counter. “So, spare toothbrush?” You side eye him with suspicion, going to the top drawer and grabbing a spare toothbrush still in the packet and handing it to him, to which he grabs your toothbrush from the holder on the sink and hands it to you with a sweet smile.
“What are you playing at, idiot?” You squint at him, but he ignores you again, handing you the toothpaste and gestures for you to use it while he starts opening his own toothbrush. You huff out a sigh through your nose, knowing he won’t tell you so you decide to just brush your teeth and let him be the weirdo he is. He eventually joins you and you both brush your teeth in silence. You stare at the mirror trying not to look at his reflection, where he’s just staring at you in the mirror. He looks far too amused for someone brushing their teeth, and it makes you uneasy.
You finish up, both rinsing your mouths and you give him another strange look when he places the toothbrush in the holder next to yours. So he’s planning on brushing his teeth here again…or? Why would he leave that here? You jolt in shock however when Matty grabs your waist and lifts you up, only to plop you down on the counter top, then walks off to the shower and opens the glass door and starts the shower running.
“What are you doing?”
He faces you and tilts his head, hooking his thumbs into the hem of the pink shorts. “I’m having a shower.” You pull your face back, looking mortified. “I am not showering with you.” Matty purses his lips to hide his smirk, and keeps his thumbs hooked in the shorts as he slips them down to just above his pubic area and then pauses. “I know, that’s why I said I’m having a shower.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then.” You blurt, leaning back when he pulls his hands from the shorts and walks towards you, placing his palms flat on the counter either side of you and dips his face close to yours.
“Hmm…No, I want you to watch.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind!” You snap with your voice breaking from how high pitched it went which makes his eyes light up in amusement. “I said I’m gonna help you figure out things you like, you’ve got me curious what those other things might be, darling. Just relax and give it a chance, you can leave whenever you want. Just try.” He says with his voice slowing as he leans closer. Your insides are clenching and flipping and doing all kinds of contortionist bullshit, and your brain is scrambling to figure out what the hell he expects exactly.
“If you like it, stay. If you don’t, leave. Pretty simple - I won’t force you. Totally up to you.” He continues, keeping his eyes focused on yours while you fight the urge to bite through your own tongue. Why are the only speeds this guy knows 0 or 100? “What does watching you shower have to do with things I like?” You stutter out like a fucking idiot. You’re confident and quick witted in situations where you can cover your nagging self doubt with jokes, but faced with any kind of intimacy and you’re a blubbering moron. Where as that seems to be the area where Matty excels and it’s terrible for your cortisol levels.
“Ouch, here I was thinking you might actually like seeing me naked.” He teases as he places his hands on your hips and tugs you forward until you’re flush against him with your thighs either side of his hips, and you swear to god you hope you pass out so you don’t have to deal with this. You thought maybe because he hadn’t tried anything since you woke up, maybe last night was a once off or it’d be forgotten…you should’ve known better. Is this payback for the shorts?
“Just humour me.” He hushes, nudging his nose against yours. “Give it a chance.”
You hold your breath trying to think of anything to say, but all that’s spinning in your head is how much of an idiot you are because you’re actually considering this. “Relax - you’re safe.” He coos, gripping your hips tighter which makes you let out your breath in a sharp shallow exhale. “I do need a favour first though.”
You raise your brows, encouraging him to just hurry up and tell you because you’re about to start sweating bullets from how quickly this entire thing has flipped upside down. He sucks his lower lip under his teeth before releasing it. “Can you kiss me again?” You hesitate for a moment, swallowing and he glances from your mouth back to your eyes with a low voice still managing to sound coy somehow. “Pretty please? Cherry on top? Extra sprinkles too? I’ll be good I promise.”
You roll your lips into your mouth, your eyes giving away the smile you’re trying to hide as you fight the urge to laugh and hate the fact that you find this idiot adorable now. You actually enjoy kissing him. And he knows that now. It’s bad news, it gives him a power over you you don’t want him to have. Yet you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. If your subconscious were a person, it would be beating its face against a wall right now. Hormones make you fucking stupid.
He lets out a triumphant hum but immediately takes control of the kiss, hooking your legs around his hips and taking a hold of your face between his large hands. There is that silence in your head again. The kiss goes straight to heated, his tongue breaking past your lips to roll against your own and the way his mouth is attacking yours has you panting for any kind of air you can get. His soft moans that start vibrating up his throat have your skin prickling and it’s like your body doesn’t know what to do with itself, you went so long without feeling things like lust or pleasure and now it’s all you’re being bombarded with in a span of 48 hours.
After a few minutes of him scrambling your mind with his mouth, he pulls back with heavy eyes, pecking your lips once more before he rests his hands on your thighs with a smug look. “Thanks for the help.” He says with a deep exhale while he catches his breath. You quirk your brows together, trying to grip your bearings again. “Huh?”
Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, when he explains what he meant by holding your thighs and thrusting his hips forward, pressing a very distinct hardness against your centre and every muscle in your body constricts. He smirks at how rigid you become, lifting his brows with cheeky eyes and unwraps your legs from around him, pulling away and watches your reaction as he grabs the hem of his shorts again to pull them down. What the fuck is going on?
You dart your eyes away, looking at your lap and trying to stop your heart feeling like it’s about to give out, hearing Matty chuckle to himself before you hear the glass door to the shower open and close. You should leave. You really should, but you’re not and you don’t know if it’s because you’re paralysed with nerves or you actually want to be here. All you hear is the steady stream of the water being interrupted by Matty stepping underneath it, letting out a low relaxed groan that has you gripping to the edge of the counter top while your eyes stay firmly stuck on your legs.
The sound of the water hitting the ground in uneven patterns rings around the air, while you assume he’s washing himself but you just can’t bring yourself to look up. You’re still figuring out this attraction to Matty, if that’s what it is. You know that he’s physically appealing like, genetically but you’ve never been one that’s overly swept up in looks - are you just physically attracted to him? You guess you haven’t felt attraction in so long, you’re just unfamiliar with it now. The feeling is so new again, it’s uncomfortable because you don’t know what to do with it, or where to place it. You feel blindsided by it.
The seconds tick past like hours while your pulse hammers in your body until you hear Matty’s gruff voice trying to sound soft and reassuring. “Look at me, darling.”
You swear you’ve never found your legs more fascinating than in this moment.
“Hey.”
So, how about those legs?
“Look at me or I’ll get out of the shower and stand in front of you naked until you do - or just leave. It’s up to you.” You think your legs would give out if you tried to stand right now, so you swallow the ball of nerves in your throat and slowly drag your eyes up, taking a deep preparing breath before you move your gaze to the shower. Just look at his face.
Your eyes catch his bare wet torso, with his shoulders leant back against the tiled wall, facing you and staring at you through the misty glass and you notice his stomach contract as he breaths, the spares hairs from his belly button that trail down between his hips…That’s not his fucking face! Your eyes whip up, catching his hooded ones as he watches you with a calm expression but there is a faint concentrated crease between his brows. His hair is soaked and pushed away from his face, stuck to his neck and shoulders, and you watch his adams apple dip as he swallows before he speaks. “Just watch me okay? See how it makes you feel - if you want me to stop just tell me.”
It makes you feel like you’re going to have a stroke, just to clear things up. Matty’s eyes stay on yours, but his brows cinch tight together when he sucks in a sharp breath and his lips part, before he huffs out a puff of air with a barely audible moan. Oh God. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
Your eyes glance down before you can stop them, seeing the fogged image of his fist wrapped around his length as he pumps it in slow motions and your stomach clenches that tight you just about hunch over, feeling like you’ve been kicked. Shouldn’t have looked.
You hold onto the counter for dear life, genuinely scared you’re going to fall over and you dart your gaze back to his face, completely frozen where you sit. You feel like you’re in some kind of trance, watching a car crash you can’t look away from while he keeps his eyes on you, rolling his head back against the wall to expose his throat while his chest starts to rise and fall faster. Your nerves are firing over your body, and the tension in the room that feels thicker than the stream damn near has you shaking while you watch his mouth fall open, echoing a deep strained moan around in the air as he starts to pant.
You’re certain you’re going to faint and crack your head on the tiles, you can already see it happening. Everything in you is screaming to look away and you just…can’t. Matty doesn’t take his stare off of you, and while you struggle to focus solely on his face you can see his shoulders tensing along with his chest muscles as he starts to work himself faster. He’s hazy through the steam on the glass, but droplets of water that trickle down it leave streaks that let hints of his clear image come through.
“Staying darling?” He drawls, his voice is low and out of breath and you sure as shit hope he doesn’t expect a verbal answer because your vocal chords feel as stunned into paralysis as your body does. He takes the fact that you haven’t budged as a response, and a ghost of a satisfied smile pulls on his mouth before he wets his lips and his breathing gets faster. “Just keep looking at me - M’thinking about you being in here with me, your hands on me. It’s driving me fucking insane.”
You swallow for what feels like the hundredth time, and your knuckles are white from how hard you’re holding onto the counter. A sheen of sweat starts to build on your forehead and chest, which you can’t tell if it’s from the steam in the room or what you’re seeing. Matty’s chest does a sudden jump, while his brows crease together and his jaw drops with a strained ‘oh fuck’ as his eyes pinch shut. Oh fuck indeed, you couldn’t have said it better yourself.
You’re clenching your jaw tight, but not as tight as you’re squeezing your damn legs together as his grunts and moans become louder mixed with the occasional profanity panting out of his mouth. You can hear the pulse ringing in your ears but it’s doing nothing to drown those sounds out, and when Matty’s jaw drops and his face scrunches up in so much pleasure it looks painful with his shoulders hunching forward you’re almost certain you’re going to faint.
You can see his body tremble and tense while he curses and grunts out moans that get cut off with sharp pants as his muscles constrict with what you can describe as nothing short of bliss across his face. You watch helplessly as Matty composes himself, catching his breath slumped against the wall and eventually moves back under the water and runs his hands through his drenched hair as it streams over him. He rinses himself off, then shuts off the water and wrings his hair out, flipping it away from his face before pushing the door open and walking out to grab a towel hung over the towel rack to wrap low around his hips.
You’re still a damn statue on the counter, trying to wrap your head around what you just watched and don’t even realise how heavy your own breathing is. You feel like this should be awkward, but it’s just not. The air of calm confidence he has as he turns and walks towards you, giving your rigid body a once over before he stands in front of you has you just speechless instead of anxious. He doesn’t say anything, probably aware that you wouldn’t be able to respond even if you wanted to and just grabs your waist to help you get off the counter.
You’re surprised your legs didn’t collapse underneath you. You feel like a walking stunned zombie, everything you just saw replaying in your head like some erotic movie in flashes. You turn because you think you’re going to leave the bathroom, but Matty stops you and stands behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Not so fast.” He tutts, smoothing his hands from your waist down to your front to lift the hem of your shirt and dip his fingers into your shorts.
You dig your fingernails into your palms to stop from jumping when his fingers go lower, sneaking past your underwear until they go between your legs and explore in a lazy back and forth stroke, arousal coating your heat that has you choking on a gasp. He pulls his hand from your shorts, moving his mouth to your ear and you can hear the damn cocky smile in his voice. “Guess we can add watching someone getting off to the list of things you like…naughty girl.”
You’re still wordless, absolutely shocked into helpless silence which only seems to entertain him more as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “You feeling okay?”
“Ha!” You wheeze, the only audible sound you can make because that question is so fucking ridiculous right now. He moves his hand to pat against your behind. “You’ll be fine. Besides, this’ll give you something to think about until I see you again. Come on, I’ve gotta get dressed.”
He nudges you forward with a hold on your hips, which makes you stumble and Matty chuckles to himself. He coaxes you out of the bathroom and walks you towards the bed where you flop down to sit, still acting like some trauma patient that’s seen some wild shit that sent them completely mute. Matty looks so happy with himself, you swear he’s trying to kill you.
You can hear him pulling his pants on, but that’s not what grabs your attention and makes your face whip to the doorway in panic. The front door opens, then shuts and you can hear your mother’s usual dramatic groaning as if she’s a creaky old chair. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Matty notices your whole body become stiff, looking to where the noise is coming from, then back to you and gives you a strange look but you only look at him feeling like all the blood is draining from your body. “You need to leave.” You burst, darting your frantic eyes to the door and back to a shirtless Matty that’s barely done his pants up. His brows scrunch up in confusion. “What?”
“You need to leave right now - preferably out the window.” You whisper yell, waving your hands at him. However, Matty doesn’t get a chance to ask you why you look like you’re about to have a nervous breakdown because your mother’s voice comes from the door.
“Hey, I need a pain kill- oh, who’s this?”
Oh fucking hell.
#well#singularity matty#is that a tag now#shit#ok anyways#the 1975#matty healy#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy fanfic#matty healy x reader#matty healy x you#matty healy smut#spelling mistakes for days i bet#sorry
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oh now i want to know why you hate one piece (just so you know where im coming from, i used to hate the series and thought was the stupidest thing ever and there was no way it was good, and then i read it and it was amazing and i loved it and it moved me in profound ways, and yet i did not forget why i thought it was stupid and indeed i can still fully see why someone would think it is stupid because, lets be honest, it is kind of really stupid so) yeah, im curious
i once loved it as a late teen, i even had one piece ocs LOL. One Piece is not bad because its stupid, or has toony art style or w/e .. but it is bad because its betrayed all the characters and core principles of the story that it pretended to be so invested in. in so many ways its honestly impressive. While i don't agree w/ everything said - youtuber Drizzt has made a very long mutli-series video essays about the various issues and i have enjoyed watching them as it covers arcs that i could not force myself to read. I personally kept reading to the mermaid island arc, but emotionally i dont think it was good when they reached the grand line. (laboon stuff was cute, but after that.. trouble) i dont really like alabasta arc and i feel like every arc after that, is just trying to do that arc again but worse every time. (all complete w/ a new princess character to be tossed aside for the next round..) i hated robins backstory and her part in water 7 (she was my fav female character in the series & i loved her powers.) i wanted usopp to leave the crew or have some real consequences w/ him and the ship. i hate luffy being like such a chosen one in so many ways he has 0 agency in the story, there's some to be expected but now its like at the point where i dont even know what else you could add. he really is the nepo baby of the one piece world. no one dies EVER and i dont even count ace dying bc who gives a fuck abt ace, luffy sure doesnt cuz he got over it in like 1 chapter after he died w and now he has a new retcon brother (who also was dead at least once i think and had amnesia) to fill in the void. franky is ugly as shit now. i could go ON.
#i want all those little pirates to drown#just a taste of my salt#i forget when choppy got bad but i used to like him a lot and that was one of the things that kept me going for a while
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I just want to say that the most recent chapter, at the time of writing this, of your fic (where Pac and Mike travel back in time to a 2b Fit, forgive me for forgetting the name) had me so enthralled. I've said this before but I don't think there are nearly enough fics that thoroughly explore the absolute internalised homophobia a man would develop in a place like 2b, so to have a fic like yours properly portray it is like a dream. That chapter has been stuck in my mind since I first read it, and I've reread it a couple of times.
I can't get over how well you showed that he wasn't just angry, but genuinely terrified. I love the emphasis on him being above all just so fucking scared of that information existing out loud. It's such a good angle. And he's not completely dead shocked by the revelation, and jumps straight into denial, which makes it come across - to me, anyway - as if he has already been aware of this fact about himself for a while, like he knows, and he actively works to hide it everyday. There's so much implied in what isn't said . It leaves you wondering how long he's known, how much he thinks about it, if anyone else in his life has ever known, if he has witnessed first hand what happens to people like him (has he ever watched someone get killed for that while having slurs and horribly vulgar and vivid insults thrown at them, and tried his hardest not to picture himself in that position, as the victim?) ... And most of all you wonder what the aftermath of the interaction looks like on his end. Is he panicking silently up in that room, expecting a mob at his door by morning? What is he thinking, what's running through his head? What does he expect to happen now?
I just love the angle you took and how it was written, and that you decided to pick up the heavy subject matter and write it where a lot of other writers seem hesitant. It's so intriguing .
Thank you so much for this ask!!! I could go crazy over this chapter as well and point out so many details, I'm gonna get into some here, but not all (since I wanna keep some stuff ambigitous/secret still and cuz if i mentioned it all it would be a long post, but I will probably go deeper into some more things once the fic is over cuz I have so many things and smaller details I wan't to get into!!! ) (Also I guess if you want to keep thing ambigious and not 'peek behind the curtain' about some things with this fic don't keep reading)
I have seen some people say Fit's reaction to Mike's comment is with self-denial but honestly it's a lot closer to just being him denying Mike and Pac's words. He's not lying to himself, he's strictly lying to Pac and Mike, and I'm glad I was able to make that clear and people are picking up on it!
Not gonna go to much into it right now ( that's for later in the fic 🤫), but he's very aware he is gay.
As a queer person myself homophobia is sadly not something i'm unfamiliar with. I have experinced it directed towards me and I have seen it happen to other people. Meanwhile i've also done research about internalised homophobia as best I can. I know it's a heavy subject matter (and the fic has a lot of violence/gore as well, it's rated M for a reason) so I'm glad so many people are intrigued by the fic despite it (however I fully understand if someone would not like the themes and cuz of that won't read it). I'm hoping to portray it and handle the themes as best i can.
I also think it would just makes sense from a character perspective, you have a man who has been on 2b2t for years, surrounded by slurs for all lgbtq memebers and wathcing people get specially targeted for stuff like that, and that would fuck with you as a closeted gay person. Not only bring you fear of being "found out", but also adapting homophobi language to look less like "one of them" while also just ingraning it in yourself.
Fit's been told the person he is bad, and knows that if people find out he's gay there will be a lot of negative consequnces, so he hides it. And then here comes Mike, not only saying that he knows he's gay but also that "it's obvious" that he likes Pac. For Mike and Pac it's a factual thing they know, while they also know is dangerous to Fit in the wrong hands. They also think it's obvious Fit likes Pac beacuse they know what to look for.
For Fit it sounds like these random guys, despite his best efforts, knows he's gay, the other says he has photo evidence he's gay, and then said he is awful at hiding it. These two people could ruin his life and have him killed so easily. That's what Fit heard and that is terrifying.
This is also one of the reason this fic is only from Pac's POV becuase I want it to be as unclear for the reader what Fit is thinking as it is for Pac. You don't know how Fit thinks in the past, what ideas he has or how he looks at thing which I think it both intruging for readers but also terrifying. You never know what Fit's next move is going to be.
Once again, thank you so much for the ask! I love talking about my fics so thank you for giving me a reason to!
#toast fic#I should really have a tag for this fic or something umm#I'm worried bout the future fic#that works for now#ask#tw homophobia#it's very late for me right now so i hope this makes sense and is readable
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Ride 764: Dearest wish
Pag 1
1: The one thing the third year Onoda Sakamichi desires is....?
Pag 2
3: His dearest wish!!
4: Right!!
Pag 3
1: That's definitely Onoda's dearest wish
Pag 4
2: Do your beest
They're so fast!
They move the wind
The jerseys are so brightly colored
3: No no no no
4: That- that's not it
That's not-
Is Sohoku arguing over something!?
Pag 5
1: That- that was just the spur of the moment
I ended up just saying anything
2: That's not my dearest wish at all....
So- uhm
3: Please forget about it, everyone!!
4: No way!!
Yeah
Teh!!
Yep
Yeah
Pag 6
1: That must be our goal this year!! Our third victory in a row!!
Pag 7
1: Yessir!!
On!!
Yeah!!
2: The three day long stage is harsh and long, that's why everyone's strengths will be necessary!!
Yessir!!
3: If we can all unite our strengths and support each other as one...
4: The I'll be able to win brilliantly!! Yeah!!
Just like I did during the prefectural qualification!!
Ohhhh
Tch
Pag 8
1: I'll sprint desperately, Hotshot-san will accompany me, and I'll do a grand finishing dash, just like that day!!
Okay!! You've been saying it over and over again!!
2: You're really a guy who clings to the glory of the past
The prefectural qualification is connected to the Inter High, it's not in the past!!
You're the type of guy I hate the most when you get carried away
Naruko-san was amazing, teh!!
That day, yeah!!
Naruko-san!!
3: Sto-stop iit, you were both amazing that day
4: Come oon... we're in the middle of an important meeting
6: Now that I think about it
Onoda-san's....
7: This is all
Pag 9
1: Can I say one last thing?
2: I also think our goal must be a third consecutive victory
3: There's just one thing I'm curious about we still haven't asked
Onoda-san
5: What's your goal this year?
What are you running in the Inter High for?
6: When I asked you this last year during the first years' race
Pag 10
1: I want to report it
2: You said you wanted to report the victory to your senpai
3: And you
4: Accomplished that
5: Honestly, when I first heard that I thought “what is he talking about, that's such a small goal”
But that day, after the race, when I saw Onoda-san doing it
6: I was shaking
I thought from the bottom of my heart that it was amazing
Pag 11
1: I thought you were super cool
5: Wh- no no
That- I was just reporting, there's nothing cool about it at all, okay
Pag 12
1: So I want to know what your goal is this year
Please tell us what you're thinking about!!
2: Is it “I want to report to that senpai once again”!?
4: Crowning your third victory in a row as the captain!?
6: Is it the mountain's bib!? Is it winning a stage!?
Please tell us... your goal during the race...
7: or maybe for when the race is over!!
8: A.....
9: No no no
It's nothing- yes, it's nothing!!
Pag 13
1: Onoda's goal....
2: I see, what Onoda-kun wants to do....
3: Now that I think about it....
4: What is it!? You started saying it now, “a”!!
Is it “running as an assist”!?
5: Does it mean you don't want to bear the last heavy burden!?
No no no no, that's fine, if the situation calls for it I'll do my best
6: That's enough, Issa
7: There are things Onoda-san doesn't want to say too
No, if it can become motivation for the team then he should say it
Pag 14
1: Onoda-san's goal!!
2: But still, Issa!!
I'm telling you, anything is fine!!
Ah, uhm...
3: It's a really personal thing, so.... don't get your hopes up...
But.... that's... always been.... my dearest wish...
4: Dearest wish!!
5: If we run with all we have in this Inter High.... putting together all of our strengths and deliver our jersey to the finish line
6: If we get the best result....
Pag 15
1: No no, I really can't say more than this
3: Say it, everything's fine. I'm curious too
4: Ah.... if we get the best results.... I....
5: I want to reserve a room somewhere...
6: A room?
8: Prepare teacakes
9: Cakes!?
10: Ask for everyone's cooperation...
Pag 16
1: Gather five people
5: It's something I've been imagining.... since before... entering school in my first year.....
7: Even just for one day
8: Even just a few hours after school
Everyone will bring what they like
9: A.....
Oi.... don't tell me you mean.... you
Pag 17
1: I'm thinking of reviving the anime research club!!
Pag 18
5: No way!!
Pag 19
1: And then, there
2: I think I could call Makishima-san, who likes figures
I feel like you've misunderstood something here
3: And Midosuji-kun who likes anime
Would you be able to hold a conversation with him!?
4: Isn't that good!! The best goal!!
5: You'll gather five people in no time!!
6: Kakaka mine will be the first name you write down
7: Amazing
From England and Kyoto....!!
Pag 20
1: I don't really get it, but somehow that fired me up!!
2: That's Onoda-san's dearest wish!!
3: Ah
4: N-no, it's really nothing much, so I take it back...
Revive the anime club!!
Let's do it, for Onoda-san!!
I don't really know what an anime club does, but I'm in!!
Me too!!
5: Yeeah!!
Let's do it!!
Issa, calm down
Pag 21
2: Your goal is to “revive the anime research club even for just day”?
Oi oi, that's such a small
3: but splendid goal!!
4: You managed to unite the club's intentions as one with such bizarre words!!
5: You're really are an unpredictable guy!!
The plate will soon become green
“Real start”.... the real race will start!!
#yowamushi pedal#yowamushi pedal translations#yowapeda#yowapeda manga#yowamushi pedal manga#yowamushi pedal spoilers#ride 764 ONODA YOU LITTLE WEABOO I LOVE YOU#im so stupid bc this was to be expected OF COURSE THATS HIS DEAREST WISH#but was i expecting it while reading this chapter? honestly no#i love it this manga will go full circle and im already a mess of emotions oh my god#onoda: i want to revive the anime club!!#me: *cries*#onoda could say literally ANYTHING and the other members would absolutely lose it#they get fired up for anything thats onoda-related#they dont even know what an anime club is but theyre excited!! as long as thats what makes onoda happy!!#kaburagi is annoying as usual (affectionate) but at least he got the right spirit saghsdfkasdgf#onoda wanting to invite makishima and midosuji too ahsdsadgad i cant see it ending well lmao#hes so pure i love him#pag 5 last panel is the best thing ever tbh#i love sohoku so much#best team in all sports manga ive ever read
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anyhow how the fuck did I miss Kiyan’s tag on AO3 getting over 100 now? Good fucking work team thank you
#txts#surprisingly this isnt a case of#most fics are just him as a side character as far as i can remember#which I honestly wouldnt expect normally but I have been lurking around here long enough to actually expect him to at LEAST have a decently#big enough role when he's involved#i can think of maybe a handful of fics where he rly is 'just' a side character#but it's def not most or even near that#which is even better#the witcher#kiyan#i kinda wish I knew how many chapters and how many words all these together are tbh#bc while most are oneshots or a few chapters#some have many many in them#also idk if shadowys is still up (i dont think so i think it got deleted in november) but to me mentally it's still there#i mean future plans were made so EVENTUALLY it'll return in another form#so to me this is 104 fics at least v-v#anyhow again-thank all you writers for your service#i have....not been reading a lot of the newer ones#YET#because reading takes energy which urgh why#but I do wanna...so....eventually...i will return#i know the unbury crew has written some more as well which i also havent caught up with#which is how you know it's 'bad'#my brain has been overtaken with other shows this year but we are getting back so dw just give it some more time and essays on how much i#love whatever has been written will return v-v
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Ice-Head Gill was a fun little introductory read for a first chapter. The storyboarding could definitely use some polishing but beyond that I think it has some decent promise to.
Fingers crossed it doesn’t crash and burn like Red Hood and Earthchild did nor go full GOTTA GO FAST like Ginka and Gluna decided to do right out the gate.
#manga#armi reads manga#r/manga seems to be divided on this first chapter#i'm not sure where they're getting the 'too much text' complaint from tho...?#like i honestly didn't get that impression while reading it#besides there being quite a number of miniature panels but again that's a storyboarding issue#but this is its own thing so i'm not expecting it to dump walls of info text like hxh does#also re 'nO pOweR sYStEM' well yeah no shit there isn't one (yet) we just got the first chapter sit down lol#i'll stick around for the ride#so here's hoping we get more interesting character designs
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let me keep you company
a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3
wc: 5.1k whoops
synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.
For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.
You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.
Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.
But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.
You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.
Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.
Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.
All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.
And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.
But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.
You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.
But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.
One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—
A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.
Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.
"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.
Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.
"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.
Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"
A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.
You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.
"Not... much." You answer honestly.
There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.
He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."
You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.
"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.
Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.
It's going to be a long two months.
—
As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.
Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.
There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.
Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.
Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.
Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.
Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.
You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)
Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?
As if, you snort to yourself.
You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.
As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.
"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"
You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."
Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"
"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.
Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—
"You did not ask for a ride this morning."
Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.
"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."
You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.
"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.
His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."
You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.
"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.
Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.
You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.
You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.
"I'll be... going this way."
Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.
"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.
He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."
When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.
“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.
You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.
Guess you have company.
—
Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.
Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.
And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.
The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.
In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.
“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.
Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.
“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”
It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.
Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.
The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.
You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.
When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.
The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.
"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."
The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.
You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—
"Y/n."
Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.
"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."
"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.
It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.
Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.
Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.
Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.
"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."
Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.
"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.
Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.
You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.
"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.
It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.
"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.
The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.
Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.
"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.
You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.
You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.
The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.
By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.
That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.
"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"
Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.
"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."
You hmph. "Maybe I will."
You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.
"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."
Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."
Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"
You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.
"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"
"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"
The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.
"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.
You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"
Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?
"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."
And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.
Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.
—
It continues like that for the rest of the week.
Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.
The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.
It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.
Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.
As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.
"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.
"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.
"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.
"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."
Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."
You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”
You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.
"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."
"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.
The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.
Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.
"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.
Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.
"Go on then," She urges you.
For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.
You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."
He's waiting by the time you get there.
Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.
Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.
"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?
Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.
"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.
You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.
"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."
You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.
Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.
"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."
"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"
He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.
This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.
"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.
Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.
He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.
Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.
Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.
Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.
#YIPPEE! written in like... 3 days#no editing less go#love it or leave it#a break from all the doom and gloom of wtssf#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger x reader#azriel x you#acotar fanfiction#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger x you#sloane writes
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Is It Over Now? | LN4
lando norris x reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)
— Part 2
Previous Part | Next Part
Summary : Y/N and Lando try to clear up the rumors about them. But things go downhill when Lando's actions end up causing more trouble for Y/N, leaving her facing hate comments from everyone.
landonorris added a story
luisinhaoliveira99 and landonorris
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luisinhaoliveira99 ❤️
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username OMGGG YOU GUYS R SO CUTE
username oh i thought lando and y/n are back together :(
username what u expect??
username THE HARD LAUNCHING????? OMFFF LANDO LUISA
username luisa girl<3 i love her with lando
username CONGRATS BOTH OF U❤️
username whoever say lando hasn't moved on from y/n must see this lol
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maxfewtrell definitely hate it bc u hate drama
yourusername ???? lmao max
yourusername out of the context
maxfewtrell haha it's been a while hope u doing well yn
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f1wagupdates Lando has been rumored to be close to Luisa for nearly 3 months, yet there's still uncertainty about their relationship status. While photos of them spending time together suggest more than just a friend. Then came the surprising news when Lando and Y/N both posted photos aboard a yacht, sparking speculation of them back together. However, recent social media posts from Lando and Luisa show that they are getting intimate, emphasizing that Lando and Luisa are dating. Will Lando stick with his old flame or go for someone new?
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username Honestly, i ship Lando and Luisa so hard! They look so cute together❤️
username I'm here for races, but Lando's love life has me more invested than the races itself
username i just want him end up with whoever makes him happy
username team Luisa all the way! She and Lando look so happy together
username y/n, darling, do yourself a favor and find someone who actually wants to be with you. Lando's clearly moved on to bigger and better things
username y/n still chasing after Lando like a lost puppy? it's time to accept reality and move on girl
username yeah typical attention seeker always trying so hard to stay relevant
username posting the same vibe photos as lando lol such a pathetic move y/n
username you might not know the full story, just because she posted the same photos doesn't mean she's trying to start rumors
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username your period cravings post is hilarious and so relatable😫
yourbff so ur period cravings are shopping for foods and makeup?
yourusername yepp<3
username you are so cuteeee
username is one year not enough for you to move on from lando?
username stop creating drama you need to grow up🙄
username he's happy with Luisa, give it up
username lando found someone better, and you're just embarrassing yourself at this point🤦♀️
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Thankyou for reading! Feel free to comments anything<3 see u in next chapter xx
taglist: @c-losur3 @tania2748 @starz4me1 @celestialend @booksandflowrs @xlinxdax0704
#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris au#f1 smau#f1 imagine#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris smau
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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.9 (fin.)
brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader
warnings: angst(ish), fluff, smut (mdni), masturbation (m.), confrontation, not many warning this chapter since it's the finale, anything i missed lmk!
ch. 9 synopsis: nationals are underway and everything hangs in the balance for you as you watch sunghoon and minhee compete. just before the competition, sunghoon gets an unexpected visitor and makes some life decisions.
wc: 15.1k
previous | masterlist
a/n: hi! i can't believe this is the end. i genuinely will never be able to thank each one of you for the love you have given this series. honestly, i didn't expect this series to do that well considering it's a hefty amount, but all of you have been so lovely and supportive! i hope this ending does melting point justice and ties everything up for you all. i will miss mp fridays and ynhoon more than anything but it just means i can work on something new <3 ilysm and thank you again!
Sunghoon’s alarm blares from the hotel’s bedside table, startling him from his peaceful sleep. He tries to twist and turn off the annoying noise but your grip on him stops his movements, your head burying itself into his chest as you stir, your legs tightening around his as a sleep-induced protest to have him stay beside you.
Smiling down at you, he gently pushes you from his body, careful not to fully wake you while he turns off the alarm from his phone. Luckily, you’re so exhausted from the night before’s activities that you simply roll to your side and sink further into the fluffy pillow.
The time on Sunghoon’s phone reads 6am, a horribly early start for such a long day. He digs the soles of his palms into his eyes trying to rid any sleepiness from them in an attempt to wake up. Knowing he has to get prepared for today, he begrudgingly flicks the covers off of his body and sits up at the edge of the bed.
He turns to face you, happily pouting at your sleeping figure. Right now, Sunghoon is the most content he has ever been before a competition and it was all thanks to you. Last night, relaxing with you and Minhee watching TV, fucking you into the morning, and cradling you in his arms as you softly snored on his chest, it was all so perfect. Finally, he felt like his life had some form of normality to it; he felt the same way last night as he used to when his dad took him for food at that cafe you’ve grown to love so much. He’s finally found happiness like he only dreamed of.
Placing the covers back over you as he stands up, Sunghoon quickly makes his way to the bathroom, careful not to trip over the mess on the floor; there is something about hotel rooms that just makes him a slob, the entire place covered in his stuff which could easily be put away.
The bathroom light flickers as he presses the switch, the white light a little too bright for his liking but he has to make do. Inspecting his face in the mirror, he sees a light in his eyes that flashes back to him, a testament to his happiness. If this was a typical competition morning, he would be stressed, the weight of perfection placed on his shoulders by his mother the only thing he truly felt. The constant need to impress and be the best at what he does drained him more than he realised, until you came along he would grit and bear it, trying to keep everyone happy.
But you, you made him realise that you will always be proud of him as long as he does his best and is happy with himself; a desperate structure he needed in his life.
Grinning from ear to ear, he turns on the shower and waits for the water to heat up, using his hand as an indicator. He strips off his boxers and steps in carefully - the last time he brazenly walked into a hotel shower he nearly fell ass first, legs flailing to keep him up right and that is the last thing he needs to happen.
The water is perfect as it cascades over his body, each droplet trickles down his form like a mini blanket, hugging him with warmth. He doesn’t mind winter much, being born in December and all, but he does dislike the coldness. Irony isn’t lost on him, he understands that his whole life has been around a freezing cold ice rink, yet recently, he has been finding it more and more difficult to withstand the cold air.
Probably because he was so accustomed to your warmth now.
For some reason today, more than most days, he can’t shake his mind off you; probably because there is so much at stake today and you’re the only thing that calms down his anxious mind.
After Minhee explained about your mother and her gambling, he knew from then that he had to shield you from it all. He wants to respect your wishes and perform to his best ability, but the nagging part of his heart that lives to protect you is telling him to disobey your request, to just lose the competition on purpose anyway.
Minhee is good, spectacular even, Sunghoon can’t and won’t deny that, but is he really first-place ready? This all must be gnawing at your brother, swaying his head and making him lose focus, Sunghoon knows it would do that to him. And who is to say another figure skater won’t be better than both of them? Was the bet just for Minhee to win over Sunghoon in points or the whole competition? He wishes he got some clarity on that as he ponders all the possible outcomes of today.
All he has to do is lose to Minhee, that’s the safest option.
Squirting some of the hotel soap onto his hands, he glides them all over his torso and chest, rubbing in the suds to wash him clean. Selfishly, he wants to wake you up and have you wash him as you have done so many times before; your nimble hands trailing over his v-line and his toned stomach, always resulting in your back against the tiles while he fucks into you, serving to create a vicious cycle of cleaning one another of your sex only to dirty yourselves up again. The recollection of your soaped-up tits only adds to his yearning for you, but you are so exhausted from yesterday that he needs to leave you be, settling for his memories and hand.
His hand falls to his semi-hard cock as he turns his body to face the showerhead, stroking his shaft a few times, using the pressure from the water to add another layer of pleasure.
Tipping his head back, he opens his mouth as he squeezes his length at the base before pumping a little more determinedly. He knows he doesn’t have lots of time but he can’t help himself, every thought of you bouncing on his cock and the primal moans that escape your mouth every time he hits that sweet spot inside you.
Biting his lip, he jerks himself off faster, trying to keep quiet but the feeling is too good, he can’t help but speak to himself as he imagines you in here with him, “Shit, Y/N, so fucking good,” he whispers, the base in his voice being lost behind the hum of the shower.
He angles his cock perfectly so some of the water stream hits directly onto his slit, giving him the same sensation as when the tip of your tongue swirls around his head, dipping into him as you stare into his eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” Sunghoon breathes out, placing his spare hand on the wall to steady himself as he thrusts harder into his hand, searching for a quick release.
Since you came into his life he has started to question how he ever got off without at least the thought of you. The way you touch him, the way you make him feel, it’s like nothing he has ever known before. He hasn’tt tell you that when you rode him in his car for the first time that he genuinely wondered if he had even had sex before you, the way your walls gripped at his cock suddenly made him forget every person he had ever been with.
All he remembers is you.
When he nearly lost you because of your mum, he didn’t know what to do. Of course, he was mad about the skate and that you lied, but without you there with him, even for a few days, it was enough for him to lose any sense of being; it was as if all his limbs had been torn away from his body. Since the day you came home to him, he vowed never to let you go, and he won’t.
Quickening the pace, Sunghoon is close to the edge, ready to spill his seed down the shower drain. His wet chest heaves up and down as his balls shiver with the ache of release, “Y/N, just like that, baby. So fucking good,” he moans, hoping his voice doesn’t carry into the hotel bedroom.
His wrist works harder as he inhales through gritted teeth, his brain running through every orgasm you’ve ever had so that he can feel like he’s cumming with you.
“Shit, shit,” he groans, the first spurts of his cum shooting against the wall, some already being rinsed down the drain. He chants your name a few times, muttering how much he loves you under his breath as he slowly comes down from his climax.
If only it was you he was cumming inside, painting your walls white.
Shaking his head, he rids himself of any more dirty thoughts of you, scared he might have to spend another 10 minutes under the water. Turning the faucet, he changes the water to a cooler temperature while he tries to calm the thumping in his chest and the throbbing in his cock.
Once he is done with the competition, he’s going to take you over and over on the bed, cumming as many times as possible, whether inside you, on you, or wherever his desire leads.
Sunghoon turns the shower off, cleans the remnants of his mess, and steps out, wrapping a towel around his slim waist, the imprint of his now softening cock still pressed against it. You would drool if you saw him like this, you always had a thing for your boyfriend when he came straight out of a shower. There is something about the way his body glistens and how his hair sticks to his face that just turns you on. Perhaps it’s because it’s akin to how he looks after hours of fucking you silly.
After completing his skincare routine and brushing his teeth, he saunters back into the room where you are still sound asleep. He breathes a sigh of relief that he didn’t wake you despite his constant mewling of your name.
Dropping the towel next to his suitcase, he rummages for his usual training gear before slipping into it with ease, each movement he makes is calculated, being careful not to reach a high decibel and wake you. He gathers his competition essentials such as costume, skates, and makeup, slowly zipping his bag once he has double and triple-checked it.
He steals a glance at you before tip-toeing over to your side of the bed. His hand reaches to pet your hair gently, framing it around your face to rid it from your eyes. With a soft kiss on your forehead, he smiles fondly, “I love you, baby.” His words fall on sleeping ears but he says them anyway, hoping they somehow wiggle their way into the peaceful dream you’re having.
Sunghoon heads out of the hotel room, picking up his key from the door and shutting it softly behind him. Just as the door clicks, he hears the same noise from up the hallway. He turns his head to see Minhee coming from your room, hair wet and a singular star pimple patch on his chin; the same brand you buy for yourself.
Now that he’s looking at your brother, he really studies how similar you both are; same nose, same posture, and even your walk is the same.
Minhee approaches Sunghoon with a timid wave and adjusts the gym bag securely onto his shoulder, “Hey, I’m guessing she’s in there?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon nods, still whispering out of habit from this morning, “We…you were snoring so loud last night, Y/N couldn’t sleep,” he offers as an excuse as to why Minhee woke up alone this morning.
It’s a pathetic excuse but Sunghoon couldn’t in his right mind tell him that they left to go back to his room and fuck because Sunghoon was way too horny to keep it in his pants. Some boundaries just cannot be crossed, plus, does any brother want to know that only a few doors down their sister was getting pounded into oblivion? The answer to that is always no.
Minhee holds his hand up in front of Sunghoon, “Mate, shut up, we’re both 20 and I’m not an idiot,” his face turns to disgust despite trying to come across as mature. A shiver runs down his spine at the conversation, not wanting to progress it any further.
Fortunately for him, neither does Sunghoon, “Are you ready for today?” he asks as they walk together to the lift.
Taking a deep breath in contemplation, Minhee finally nods, “Yeah, I think so,” he pauses, pushing the elevator button. He is nervous, this grand plan of his only working if he does his absolute best with no mistakes; all he has to do is perform with the same tenacity as the run-through. He turns to his competitor and braces a smile, “Hey, thanks for doing this, Sunghoon. I know after everything that’s happened between us I shouldn’t be asking you to do me a favour like this,” he says sheepishly.
It was a lot to ask of his then-rival, to be so bold and ask Sunghoon to throw a first place just to save Minhee’s ass after he nearly destroyed his career, no one in their right mind should have agreed. But Sunghoon, despite everything, was as understanding as ever.
Your brother wasn’t accustomed to Sunghoon’s caring nature, Minhee’s impression of him up until this point was his enemy and what the media perceived him as, not the Sunghoon you knew, so when Sunghoon agreed, albeit a tad apprehensive, he was taken aback.
“I’ll do anything for her,” Sunghoon states clearly, his voice firm with determination, “And you, man. I can’t imagine what your mum has put you through up until now,” he admits. It was true that he was willing to do literally anything for you, but it was also true that he wanted to do this for Minhee as well. The more Sunghoon thought about it, it wasn’t Minhee’s fault for all this drama, it was all your mum’s fault. He couldn’t keep a grudge against someone who was only trying to protect their sister; if it was him, he would have done the same.
Minhee flashes a smile and light-heartedly punches Sunghoon’s shoulder, “Getting all gushy over me now, huh, Park?” he chuckles as the boy in front of him rolls his eyes in fake annoyance. Turning slightly serious, Minhee continues, “Y/N is my first priority in this world and to be honest, I didn’t care about winning until all this mess,” he confesses, a hint of anger pointed towards your mother in his voice.
“She’s mine too, Minhee. Just do your best out there and we’ll figure out the rest. I got you, man,” he smiles once again, hoping his sincerity comes through in his words. The lift bell dings as it arrives at their floor, and both skaters descend down to the lobby, on their way to the practice rink.
As they make their way across the street to the ice rink, the reporters are back on their case, shouting useless questions with zero substance. Sunghoon places an arm over Minhee’s shoulder, his lips against his ear, “Wanna hold hands? Really give them something to talk about?” he laughs, pulling him in tighter to his side.
The flashes go rapid at the gesture, “I don’t think we need to, Sunghoon. I think they might have already married us off,” Minhee says as his eyes focus on crossing the road, being the eyes for both of them as Sunghoon plays up to the camera.
“C’mon then, baby, we don’t want to be late for our warm-up.” Both of them laugh loudly, as they walk into the arena, ready to finally take to the ice.
______
The practice rink buzzes with anticipation as aspiring champions gather, each determined to claim National Gold. The distinct scent of ice and rubber immediately greets Minhee and Sunghoon as they step inside, a familiar aroma that stirs memories of countless hours spent honing their skills on the ice.
All eyes are on them, curiously following their every move. Unaffected by the attention, Minhee and Sunghoon enter together while exhibiting camaraderie and confidence. They chuckle lightheartedly at the hubbub outside, their laid-back demeanour in sharp contrast to the intensity of the upcoming competition.
Wonyoung waves at both of them as she skates around the rink, happy that her Belmore buddies are finally there to join her.
With Minhee spending a lot of time at the rink, he and Wonyoung have secretly become vast friends, even going as far as to help one another out when they cross paths. Your brother didn’t have many friends on the ice, the nature of the competition is a lonely one, so it was refreshing to get close to a fellow figure skater. And one as pretty as Wonyoung was simply a bonus.
As Minhee waves back eagerly, Sunghoon raises his eyebrow sceptically, “You’re cheating on me already? Did our 5-second wedding outside mean nothing to you?” he jibs at him, nudging his ‘lover’ with his shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” Minhee asks, never taking his eyes off Wonyoung.
“You’ve got a thing for Wonnie,” he says as a statement rather than a query, already certain of Minhee’s feelings towards the female skater.
Minhee snaps his face to meet Sunghoon’s gaze, “She lets you call her that?” his face shines a brighter shade of red as he realises what he just said, “I mean no. We’re friends, nothing more.” Despite Minhee’s protests, Sunghoon doesn’t buy it, only wishing to poke fun at him further.
“Hey, no judgment here, she’s pretty,” he places a hand on his new friend’s shoulder, “Y’know, she’s single, right? She broke up with that Ricky kid a few months ago,” he informs him.
Minhee nods sadly, “Yeah, she said in passing that she wasn’t getting involved with another figure skater.”
Wonyoung and Ricky lasted a whole 4 months before calling it quits, not exactly heartbreak material, but enough for her to swear off any man that adorns a skate, at least for the time being.
Noticing Minhee’s slumped body language, Sunghoon tries his best to give him some encouragement, “True, but you have one thing that he doesn’t,” he says, dancing his bushy eyebrows up and down.
Minhee tilts his head, “What?”
“You’re older and you’re about to be a Nationals Champion. I’d say that’s pretty hot, hmm? I mean look at me,” he gestures to himself smugly, “That’s how I got your sister.”
“Mate, don’t compare Wonyoung to my sister, you’re making this weird,” he cringes at the thought.
As they both watch Wonyoung practice her toe loops, Minhee spots someone at the corner of his eye, dragging his attention away from his not-so-secret-and-completley-obvious-crush, to the woman walking towards them.
Minhee elbows Sunghoon to grab his attention, eyes pointed towards Mrs. Park as she approaches them both, face void of any emotion.
Sunghoon’s whole body freezes, the last person he expected to see today was his mother; she hasn’t bothered to contact him since their big argument.
The thing is, Sunghoon had debated whether to reach out and try and fix the relationship they had, knowing that his dad would be so mad if he didn’t at least attempt to mend things with her. But it also wasn’t solely his responsibility, she could have texted him or showed up to one of his scheduled practices, he knows she still gets the notifications in her calendar.
Despite not knowing what transpired between the Parks, Minhee knows he needs to make himself scarce, “I’ll see you out there, yeah?” he faces Sunghoon whose sole attention is on his mum as she stands in front of him.
“Yeah, I’ll be on the ice in a minute. Grab me a rack?” still, Sunghoon’s eyes never leave his mother even as he speaks to Minhee.
The other boy pats his back as he goes to the changing rooms, leaving the pair to have what can only be described as a staring contest.
“Why are you here?” Sunghoon asks, tone laced with agitation and defiance. He couldn’t be civil to her, not when she insulted and belittled you so easily. Although her suspicions of foul play were correct, she blamed you without knowing anything or gathering any evidence against you. He can’t stand for it, not then and not now.
And then there were her careless words about his deceased father, words that still reverberated in Sunghoon's mind. The idea that his own father would be ashamed of him was a wound that cut deeper than any other, a wound he was still grappling to heal.
“I came to wish you luck,” she states, voice as monotonous as ever.
Her son crosses his arms, body language standoffish as he goes to speak, “I don’t need your luck. I don’t need your guidance or anything. I fired you, or was that not clear?” he hisses.
“You can’t fire me from being your mother. I still care about you,” she retorts. There is only a hint of emotion in her voice, otherwise, Sunhgoon is looking at his typical stoic mother. If he is to believe anything she says right now, she would need to show some form of depth.
Sunghoon sucks his teeth, “I have a new family now, I really don’t need you,” he states calmly despite the bubbling anger that is rising from his chest. He saw you, and now Minhee, as his found family, people he can rely on and trust without question which is more than he can say about the woman standing a mere 50cm away from him.
Since she has been out of his life, he has felt so free of most negative emotions. The mini panic attack he had the day he kicked her out of the house was enough for him to step back and re-evaluate their relationship. No one in the world should make anyone feel as little as she made him feel that day, so he vowed never to let anyone do that to him again.
“I can’t make you forgive me for how I’ve acted over the years, I don’t expect you to, but I would like to make peace,” she confesses.
Confused, Sunghoon leans back, his arms loosening from their knot slightly, “You had weeks to do that, why pick today of all days?”
Sunghoon’s mother shifts uncomfortably, a sense of awkwardness lingering in the air as she chooses an arguably inappropriate moment to broach the sensitive topic, "Sunghoon, I only want what is best for you," she begins tentatively, her voice tinged with a hint of regret, "And I know it may not seem like it, but I do care about you. Your father was the one with a paternal instinct; what I lacked in love, he made up for."
Her words hang heavy in the air, prompting Sunghoon to pause and reflect. It's a rare occurrence for his mother to admit fault or express any form of emotional vulnerability, leaving him at a loss for how to respond, this was all new to him, a road he didn’t know how to navigate.
“When your father died, I was left to shoulder the weight of showing you love when I couldn’t find it in myself to love you the way you deserved. It sounds cold and I can only apologise for feeling this way, but I think explaining this to you will make you hate me less, maybe even forgive me.”
"So that's it then?" he burst out, his voice edged with bitterness, "You're telling me you never loved me? That showing me any form of love was a burden? And you expect me to hate you less? You’ve got some nerve.” It’s amazing to Sunghoon how she can stand there and say this to her own son, asking for him to forgive her. His anger simmered, a storm raging within him as he struggled to comprehend his mother's words.
“It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just-”
“You are my mother, you’re supposed to love your child unconditionally, no excuses,” Sunghoon's voice pierced the thick air, full of despair and rage. Every fibre of his being shouted for justice, for the love he had sought but never got.
However, as he locked eyes with his mother, a harsh realisation came over him like a tsunami smashing on the coast. He realised with terrible clarity that demanding empathy from someone who lacked the ability to care was a lost cause.
In this moment, a profound shift occurred within Sunghoon. It was a silent acknowledgement, a decision made in the depths of his soul. He refused to play the endless game of seeking validation from someone incapable of offering it. He refused to subject himself to further anguish in a cycle destined for disappointment.
"I'm done," he declared softly, his words carrying the weight of finality, “I have never been happier with you out of my life. I have people who love me, I don’t need you anymore, these past few weeks have shown me that.”
His mother looks aghast at her son’s statement, feeling her own sense of betrayal right now. She had come here looking for reconciliation but instead, she only got kicked to the curb once again. The damage of the past had already been done.
“Sunghoon, please don’t shut me out. I’m trying to learn to be the mother you deserve,” she pleads with him, mustering up any way to make him forgive her.
He watches as her face washes over with something he had never seen before, sorrow perhaps. It twinges his heart to see anyone upset, but she can’t scribble out the past with one sign of regret. If she had approached this conversation differently, he may have seen eye to eye with her but saying she found it hard to love him wasn’t the best way to broach the subject of redemption.
It’s not in Sunghoon’s nature not to be a little understanding, he does know that some people lack the emotional intelligence to form loving relationships. But that isn’t the type of person he needs in his life right now, not in his formative years. He needs more people like you, people who love him and make it look easy, not burdensome.
Stepping closer to her, he gives her one more look over, “When I have kids, I will give them all the love you should have given me,” he spits at her, yet his heart is heavy with the realisation that he has lost both his parents.
“Wait!” she shouts, holding onto his arm.
Sunghoon's muscles tensed as his mother's grip tightened on his arm, her desperation palpable. He hesitated, torn between the desire to break free from her grasp and the lingering flicker of compassion within him.
"What?" he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and exhaustion, "What more could you possibly have to say?"
His mother's gaze wavered, a mix of remorse and longing clouding her features. "I know I've failed you, Sunghoon," she whispered, her voice finally trembling with emotion, "But please, give me a chance to make things right. I may not have been the mother you needed, but I want to try. I want to be there for you, to support you in any way I can. I’m working on myself, please believe me."
As Sunghoon grappled with the weight of his mother's plea, a tumultuous storm raged within him. Each word she uttered clawed at his resolve, tugging at the fragile threads of forgiveness he dared to entertain.
He met her gaze, searching for any hint of sincerity amidst the tangled web of emotions. And as he looked into her eyes, he saw a vulnerability he had never witnessed before - a vulnerability that mirrored his own.
With a heavy sigh, Sunghoon gently removed his mother's hand from his arm. "I need time," he said softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. He didn’t know if this was the right choice, to at least not burn the bridge to his mother completely, but as he looked at her now, he felt his dad in his ear, begging him to at least consider mending the relationship.
Was there a chance for redemption, for reconciliation, buried beneath the layers of hurt and resentment? Or was this merely another chapter in their tumultuous relationship, destined to end in further heartache and disappointment? Sunghoon isn’t sure, but he’ll try.
With a heavy heart, Sunghoon stamps down his decision - one born from a fragile balance of trepidation and tentative optimism, "I need to think about this, all of it. I have people to consider, including myself, before I can even entertain the idea of letting you back into my life." he confessed, his voice trembling.
Sunghoon's mother nodded, her eyes shimmering with gratitude and a glimmer of hope. "I understand," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting. Good luck today."
His mother gives him one final nod before retreating, leaving Sunghoon with his decision. He sits with the echoes of his mother's plea - a silent promise to confront the demons of their past and forge a new path forward, one step at a time. And though the journey would be fraught with obstacles, he clung to the belief that amidst the pain and turmoil, there lay the possibility of redemption - a chance to rewrite the story of their fractured relationship and embrace forgiveness.
It was either the most foolish thing he had ever done or the start of his healing journey.
Making his way to the locker room, he sees Minhee lacing up his skates, weaving the strings around each of the eyelets. Sunghoon takes the moment to look at him and wonder how Minhee feels about his own damaged relationship with his mum. Was it as conflicting for him or was the decision to rid his mother from your family easy?
Sunghoon sits down on the saved seat next to Minhee, leaning back against the wall, his head thumping.
“You okay?” Minhee asks tentatively, not wanting to poke the bear.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon opens his eyes to gaze at Minhee, “Can I ask you something?” Nodding, Minhee sits up straight, awaiting the impending question, “Your mum, was it easy to, like, disown her?” It’s a strange question to ask someone but he hopes that Minhee’s answer will give him some clarity into his own situation.
Minhee ponders, never having really thought about it before, “I think it was, I mean, she put Y/N in danger, treated us both like shit, and blamed me for a lot of things that I didn’t have any control over. Emotionally, I think me and Y/N were both detached from her, which made it easy.”
Sitting with Minhee’s words, Sunghoon realises that the reason he finds it so hard to let go of the relationship with his mum is because he does care about her. She was cold and cruel, but never harmed him in any way. Her actions weren’t one of a mother but in comparison to you and Minhee’s mum, she was at least a smidge better.
Each mother strives for her kid to succeed, but the stark contrast resides in the motives driving their acts. While Sunghoon's mother pushed him to achieve out of a genuine desire for his success, Minhee's mother's obsession with propelling him to the top sprang from her own selfish gain.
Watching Sunghoon wrestle with his inner turmoil, Minhee places a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I may not fully understand what's happening between you and your mum, but from one disappointing son to another," he says with a soft smile, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere, “If there is a chance to fix your relationship, take it. As much as I’m happy my bitch of a mother won’t be in my life anymore, it doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different. If you and your mum can sort it out, do it.”
Minhee’s speech is comforting, freeing Sunghoon of some of the tension in his body regarding the situation with his mother. It’s always a risk to forgive someone or give them a second chance, but it can also lead to stronger relationships.
In this moment, Sunghoon can at least say his mother is willing to try and redeem herself, unlike some mums in the world. It’s the bare minimum, but it’s a start.
"Thanks, Minhee," Sunghoon says, offering a grateful smile, "Do we kiss now, or?"
Minhee lets out a snort of laughter, playfully pushing his friend away. "Save those lips for the other Kang sibling, please," he teases, rising to his feet and balancing on his skates. "Although if you ever get bored of her…"
With an exaggerated wink, Minhee saunters out of the locker room, leaving Sunghoon feeling lighter and more at ease. This was exactly the conversation Sunghoon needed, Minhee was the unexpected friend he needed.
_____
You exchange the biting chill of the winter for the bustling ice rink as you step inside the venue. The vibrant atmosphere envelops you like a warm embrace. Excitement crackles in the air, mingling with the sounds of blades slicing through the ice and the chatter of eager spectators. With Nationals in full swing, anticipation pulses through the crowd as they await the next performances.
You arrived early to ensure you caught Minhee before his turn on the ice. As the women's event concludes, leaving only three skaters left, the arena buzzes with energy
Navigating through the throngs of people, your eyes scan the crowded rink for any sign of your brother. The busy venue makes it tough to find him, and you don’t even know what he is wearing. To be fair, he probably wouldn’t be out in the open arena, but rather residing backstage as he awaits the start of the men’s competition.
You walk up to one of the event staff and ask if you can go backstage to see Minhee, but of course, he doesn’t let you, “Sorry, Miss. Only skaters and coaches are allowed back there,” he says sternly. At least he’s doing his job, you suppose.
"Luckily for her, she's with me, right, Y/N?" Coach Kim's smile is infectious, and you nod eagerly, grateful for his timely intervention.
"Yes, that's right," you chime in, your mind racing to concoct a plausible explanation. "I'm a... a meditator! Yes, a meditator. I help the competitors find their zen before going on stage." You realise your impromptu lie sounds feeble, but you press on, hoping to convince the staff member.
The staff eyes you both sceptically, his scrutiny unnerving, "Then why do you have a family badge?" he questions, his tone heavy with suspicion.
Feeling the weight of his scrutiny, you look to Coach Kim for support, silently pleading for assistance in salvaging the situation.
Coach Kim steps in smoothly, his easy smile never faltering, "Ah, you see, Y/N is an important member of our team so she is practically family. Her position as a meditator is critical to my skater’s performance. She calms and focuses him before he goes out to the rink."
You give Coach Kim an appreciative look, quietly thanking him for his fast thinking. The staff member appears to examine his thoughts for a time before nodding in agreement.
"Alright then, you can go through," the staff member concedes, standing aside to allow you and Coach Kim access to the backstage area.
You walk beside Coach Kim, thanking him over and over again for getting you in. You didn’t just want to see Minhee to wish him luck, you had a surprise for him and Sunghoon, “You’re the best coach, has anyone told you that?” you beam at him.
Laughing, he nods, “A few times, yes, usually you or Minhee when you both want something,” Coach Kim points in front of you, “He’s in there.”
“Thanks, Coach!” you go to wave him off but he stops you in your tracks by gently grabbing your shoulder.
“Y/N, Minhee told me about your mum,” he sighs, troubled by the information. Surely Minhee didn’t tell him about the gambling or the skate incident, so what could he possibly know? “I’ll be candid when I say that I never enjoyed your mum’s company, not for my sake, but for yours and Minhee’s. Her deciding to leave you both high and dry like this is unforgivable,” his voice laces with disgust.
Coach Kim obviously only knows a twisted version of the events that went down recently, Minhee clearly careful with his phrasing.
“I just want to say, if you both ever need anything at all, a place to live, some extra work, a homecooked meal, whatever it is, you come and find me, okay?” His offer is generous.
To be honest, you hadn’t thought about the repercussions of your mother no longer being by your side. Where would you and Minhee live now? How would you manage to make ends meet without her support? The questions swirl around in your mind, each one more daunting than the last.
“You and Minhee, you’re both strong kids. I have faith that everything will work out for you, so don’t think too much about it. Just enjoy today,” he says as if reading your anxious mind.
Coach Kim's reassurance offers a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. His belief in your strength and resilience reminds you that you're not alone in this, that there are people who care about your well-being and are willing to help you navigate the challenges ahead.
With a final ruffle in your hair, Coach Kim leaves you in the corridor, his words of encouragement resonating in your ears. It was nice to have his support, it makes you feel like maybe you and Minhee had a support system all along, all you had to do was shed your poison of a mother.
Your feet carry you to the door to the locker room, chapping it rapidly. You can’t wait to see him and wish him luck. Although your apprehension weighs strongly regarding the skate and how important it is for him to win, not just for his pride but also for your safety and future.
You haven’t had a lot of time to come to terms with how much trouble you could be in if your brother loses this competition; the foolish bets your mum has made in your name, taking money from some shady guys to make them, and how you’re somehow on the firing line in this situation - it’s a lot to deal with mentally.
Telling Sunghoon to just skate to the best of his abilities wasn’t because you aren’t scared of what could happen, you just wanted Minhee to know that he can win this on his own, no cheating, no Sunghoon letting him win, absolutely no interferences. After everything that has transpired with your mum, he needed this.
Of course, you need to be safe, if these bets fall short and you’re left with the debt, you can say goodbye to university and any of your tiny savings. If the men are as brute as Minhee made them out to be, you’re fucked with no way out of it.
Curiosity got the better of you this morning and you checked the odds for Minhee winning this competition which was 15:1. According to Minhee, she put on £50,000 which would mean she would get 750k. It’s more money than you could imagine having in your entire life and it makes you angry that not only has your mum put you in danger but that you wouldn’t see a penny of it.
The money isn’t important to you but the fact that she was essentially putting money above her own daughter's safety is a crazy, rage-inducing thought that you don’t think you will ever get over. How could you? And to make Minhee feel like he couldn’t win on his abilities alone? She has destroyed both of your self-worth and confidence over the years.
So today, your sole focus is on being there for Minhee, rooting for him and believing in his ability to shine as the extraordinary skater you know him to be.
As you knock again, you hear rustling around as someone comes to answer the door. The metal swings open to reveal your boyfriend, hair dishevelled as if he’s just combed his fingers through it and his costume twisted.
“Baby, what are you doing here?” he asks, poking his head out the door to check if anyone saw you coming backstage. Quickly, he pulls you in, “How did you sneak past?”
Your eyes swiftly trace the room to see the skaters all getting ready, some in just their boxers and others applying the last sparkles of their body mist. One guy is strutting around with tighty whities, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Sunghoon notices your eyes stuck to something before swivelling his head to catch sight of the well-endowed man, “Sweets don’t make me knock fuck out of every guy in this room,” he warns as one of his hands pinches your chin to drag your eyes away from the half-naked men and focus on him.
Honestly, the tint of jealousy etching onto his face is so hot, you wonder if you should start oggling at others more often. Sunghoon raises his brows, waiting for you to explain, “Sorry, Hoonie. I’ve never seen so many guys in their underwear before,” you try to use it as an excuse, as if the unfamiliar sight warrants your interest but Sunghoon isn’t buying it.
“It will be the last time you see it, I can promise you that,” he scoffs, taking your hand and pulling you towards the back of the room, clear out of everyone’s line of sight, or more, everyone out of your sight.
He places you so your back is against the sea of skaters, “So what are you doing here?” he asks again, this time a little more playfully, “Want a quickie before I go on?” he leans down to your lips, kissing you softly, “I can bend you over and show all these losers who you belong to.”
Shivers run across your spine as he kisses you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. Someone walks by behind you and Sunghoon pulls you closer to him, eyeing the boy as he devours you in front of him.
Sunghoon was only half joking about fucking you in the middle of the locker room for everyone to see. He wanted everyone to know you were his and only his and no one should even look at you for longer than a second. If anyone dares to stare too long, he’ll make sure they can’t ever look at anything again through the black eyes and blood.
You give into his kiss and press your body against his, your tongues licking one another as you moan into his mouth.
“You’re both disgusting. Are you seriously going to fuck in a locker room with loads of people around?” Minhee comes up behind you, arms crossed as you and Sunghoon separate your bodies from one another.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Sunghoon murmurs into your ear, his lips brushing against your lobe as he reminisces about the countless intimate moments you've shared in Belmore. Suppressing a laugh, you feel a playful squeeze on your ass from Sunghoon, much to your brother's chagrin.
Minhee recoils, his expression contorted in disgust, "Guys, I might vomit if you keep grinding on each other while I'm right here," he pleads, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and humour.
With an affectionate eye-roll, you approach Minhee and envelop him in a tight hug, "Sorry, we forgot that displaying affection around you is considered a crime," you quip, injecting a touch of playful banter into the moment.
Minhee feigns annoyance, but you can see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I have a weak stomach," he retorts, trying to maintain his composure despite the teasing. As he lets go of your embrace, he notices something Sunghoon failed to, “What’s that?”
He points to the rolled-up A3 piece of card in your left hand. Through Sunghoon’s displays of affection, it’s slightly bashed at the edges but no real damage has been done.
“Oh! I made you both something,��� you scurry around, pushing Minhee to stand next to Sunghoon as you unravel the white card, “Ta-da!”
While they were gone this morning, you took it upon yourself to make a sign. Typically, you always make a sign for Minhee at each competition, so the gesture is nothing new, however, this time, you had two people to support.
Sunghoon and Minhee both resemble puppies as they tilt their head in curiosity, reading the sign.
“Minhoon?” your brother reads out, “Is that…”
“It’s both your names merged! I thought it would be fun to support my two boys together this time,” you smile widely, holding your artwork proudly.
The sign took you approximately an hour and a half to complete, ensuring that each of their personalities was represented perfectly. On Minhee's side, you incorporated his favourite colour combination of black and blue, adorned with stickers of stars, Pochacco, and dainty white bows. This aesthetic is quintessentially Minhee, and he adores it, especially because you add a star for every gold he's earned.
On Sunghoon's side, you opted for a sleek white and black backdrop, accentuated with pink hearts to symbolise the number of months you've been together. To complete the symmetry, you included two little pictures of Tuxedosam, perfectly mirroring each side of the sign.
As you step back to admire your handiwork, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've captured the essence of both Minhee and Sunghoon in this thoughtful gesture.
Minhee and Sunghoon exchange a glance before erupting into laughter, the absurdity of the earlier debacle and their playful charade of a secret love affair only amplifying the hilarity of the situation.
However, your heart sinks as you mistake their laughter for mockery. A small pout forms on your lips as you gaze at them, hurt evident in your eyes. "Is it not good?" you ask, your voice tinged with disappointment.
Instantly, Sunghoon and Minhee's laughter fades, replaced by a solemn expression as they see the hurt reflected in your eyes. Without hesitation, Minhee reaches out, his voice gentle as he reassures you, "No, no, Bubs, we love it, don't we, Sunghoon?" He looks to his friend, who nods earnestly in agreement. "See? We were just laughing about something else earlier," Minhee explains softly, wrapping an arm around you for comfort.
Feeling reassured by Minhee's words and his comforting embrace, you let out a relieved sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Oh," you say, a small smile returning to your lips as you realise your misunderstanding. "Well, as long as you both like it, that's what matters."
Sunghoon nods in agreement, his expression sincere. "It's perfect, Sweets. Thank you so much" he says softly, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. This is Sunghoon’s first sign brought by someone he loves and he could not be more thankful that the first one was handmade by the love of his life.
“C’mere,” Minhee wraps his other arm around Sunghoon, forming the three of you in a huddle, “Whatever happens today, I just want you both to know that I really am sorry for everything that’s gone on and I would take it all back,” he says sadly, knowing that his actions have caused distress and pain to the one person he loves in the world.
“I wouldn’t,” Sunghoon says suddenly, causing you and Minhee to look at him, “I don’t know, I think this has just brought us closer together, who wouldn’t want that outcome?”
Nodding, you both agree with his sentiment. This troubled time has been a rollercoaster but you’ve found strength in one another through it all. Would you wish your mother’s implications weren’t a part of it all? Sure, but look at the three of you now. You’ve bonded in ways you would never think possible.
And your boyfriend and brother are becoming friends, that is all you could ask for in a situation like this.
Minhee stares into Sunghoon’s eyes as he tries to communicate with him. He doesn’t know you know about their plan, and he certainly doesn’t know about you requesting Sunghoon to go against your brother’s wishes.
Nodding once as if answering Minhee’s internal question, Sunghoon steps back, sighing, “Now can one of you please help me with this costume? I’m tangled at the back and I don’t know how,” he begs, turning to show his dilemma.
“Mate, you’ve got your arm inside out,” Minhee says with a snort, solving the problem with one gentle pull of the sleeve and turning it the right way around. He buttons it up for him at the back before slapping his back roughly, “Okay, I gotta go, I’m on in 30 minutes and I wanna see what it’s like out there.”
“Good luck, Minhee,” Sunghoon says, a smile on his face as he brings him in for a hug, “Do well,” he squeezes him tighter.
Reciprocating his hug, Minhee smiles, “You too. And watch that skate,” he jokes as he pulls away to hug you next.
Sunghoon playfully huffs and crosses his arms, "Not funny, okay? It's too soon," he retorts, a smirk tugging at his lips. Despite the jest, there's a genuine camaraderie between them, a shared understanding of each other's quirks and humour.
You playfully punch Minhee's arm for his remark, eliciting a laugh from him before he waves you both off, heading towards the side of the rink to prepare for his performance.
As Minhee disappears from view, you're left alone with Sunghoon once again. He picks up the sign, a fond smile gracing his features, "I've always wanted one of these," he admits wistfully, his gaze lingering on the sign with a mixture of appreciation and affection.
You smile at Sunghoon's words, touched by his genuine sentiment, "I'm glad you like it," you say softly, stepping closer to him and resting your hand on his arm, "I wanted to do something special for you, sorry it was tied in with Minhee but I always make him a sign so,” you explain, stroking his forearm.
“I don’t care, I love it regardless because you made it.” Sunghoon’s eyes reflect warmth and gratitude as he gently places the sign against the wall.
“I promise, next competition when it’s just you, I’ll make one for only you,” you beam up at him, fixing his tussled hair as best as you can, leaving a kiss on his nose. Sunghoon looks deeply at you as if coming to a realisation about something, but you miss it, too busy focusing on the parting of his hair.
He holds your hips as you reach up to fix the back, his fingers squeezing you tightly as his heart flutters at the simple gesture. With the nape of your neck bare and in teasing Sunghoon, he leans down and places soft kisses upon it, savouring this moment.
The sudden affection makes you close your eyes, your hands now leaving his hair to hug him around his shoulders. His heart is thumping so loud you can hear it.
“Are you nervous?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into his hair. He doesn’t verbally respond, opting for a quick shake of the head but you can feel it in your bones that he is lying, his body betraying him, “You don’t have to be. Everything will work out whatever way the universe intends.”
Removing himself from you, Sunghoon gazes into your eyes once again except this time they’re filled with doubt. He is petrified of this skate because he knows if he accidentally wins, you’re in danger and that scares him because the threat is much more than he can handle. He doesn’t want to go against your request but for your health and safety, he will, he just has to do it sneakily so no one is mad at him.
“You are going to do great, everything will be fine, and no offence but I really do think Minhee can win this,” you reiterate the words you’ve been saying to him since yesterday, only further proving your belief in your brother.
Sunghoon nods, but there's a hint of resignation in his gesture. "I wish I had someone like you in my corner while I was growing up," he confesses, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he looks away. His gaze flickers to the ground, weighed down by the weight of his past.
"You did have someone – your dad," you remind him gently, reaching out to bring his forehead to touch yours. "And you still do. He's been watching over you this whole time, and he is so proud of you."
Sunghoon closes his eyes, allowing your comforting words to wash over him like a soothing balm. In that moment of vulnerability, he finds solace in the warmth of your embrace, the love and support you offer serves as motivation to keep you safe.
He nudges your nose with his as he speaks in a hushed tone, “Are you proud of me?”
For years it was his parent’s love and pride he fought for, his father giving it up so easily in comparison to his mother, but now it’s only you who he needs reassurance and love from. Sunghoon wants to make you proud in every way he possibly can.
Your eyes sparkle with love for him, “Sunghoon, my body is bursting with how proud you have made me. There is not a fibre of my being that isn’t proud of you,” you try to convey your genuity, knowing he needs to hear it most right now.
Sunghoon's heart swells at your words, a wave of relief coming over him as he hears the sincerity in your voice. Your unconditional support means everything to him, and in that moment, he feels a sense of peace knowing that he has you by his side.
Tears well up in his eyes as he pulls you into a tight embrace, cherishing the warmth and comfort of your presence. "Thank you," he whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you. I love you so much, Y/N. I feel like I can’t breathe without you.”
As you hold Sunghoon tightly, his words sinking deep into your heart, you feel overwhelmed by the depth of your love for him. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, mirroring his own, as you realise just how deeply intertwined your lives have become.
"I love you too, Sunghoon," you whisper back, your voice barely audible, but filled with unwavering conviction, "You're my everything and I promise you, you don’t have to worry. I'll always be here for you, through every moment, every challenge. You're not alone, and you never will be,” you whisper into his ear.
With those words, you offer him the reassurance and comfort he needs, your promise of unwavering support echoing in the space between you. In this embrace, you find solace in each other's arms, knowing that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.
______
Settling into your seat in the designated family and friends area, you turn your attention towards the entrance of the rink, where Minhee is seen stretching. His expression is a mix of anticipation and apprehension, the weight of expectations palpable on his shoulders.
Minhee may have struck a deal with Sunghoon to secure a win, but with that agreement comes the added pressure of not making any mistakes. One wrong move could unravel everything, turning his carefully laid plans into chaos. As he prepares to take the ice, the intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air.
Flicking his blade protectors off, Minhee glides onto the ice, circling the rink to warm up and familiarise himself with the surface beneath his skates. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, his mind is filled with positive affirmations, each one a silent plea for a flawless performance.
With every lap, he pushes himself to perfection, knowing that this is his moment to shine. All he has to do is skate flawlessly, and everything will fall into place. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, he tries to brush off the pressure with a casual "no pressure."
You watch him with a mixture of pride and hope, wishing you could convey your unwavering belief in him. You long for him to channel that same sparkle and determination that captivated everyone during his run-through at Belmore. As he takes his position in the middle of the rink, you silently send him all the positive energy and support you can muster, hoping some of it can be injected into him as he performs.
Shutting his eyes, the music begins and a hush falls over the audience, anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. With each breath, he channels his nerves into focus, his determination evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes.
Minhee launches into his routine with precision and grace. His movements are fluid, each step and turn executed with meticulous precision as he glides effortlessly across the ice. The audience is glued to him from the start, paying close attention following his every movement with rapt concentration. Minhee pushes himself to new heights with each jump and spin, blending his skills with his artistry, only making your heart swell with immense pride.
You hold your breath, slowly hiding your face behind the sign that you made as you know which part of his routine is coming next.
As the music crescendos, Minhee approaches the most difficult part: the quadruple axel, the one move he has based this whole routine on. He takes a deep breath, collects his strength, and throws himself into the air, spinning faster and faster until he completes four full rotations before landing with perfect elegance, leaving the audience breathless.
Standing up in amazement, you tuck your sign under your arm and clasp your hands, knowing it’s impolite to scream out of pure joy when an athlete is competing. Minhee’s quadruple axel today might have been the best you’ve seen in your entire life; the move is deemed one of the most difficult to accomplish and he just made it look like he does it every other Saturday.
Minhee expertly transitions into the last section of his performance, his confidence surging as he executes each element with accuracy and delicacy. His movements are filled with emotion, and his passion shines through in every beautiful gesture as he narrates a tale with each stride. He knows now is a straight run of easy manoeuvres he carefully choreographed to make sure the axle was the shining star of the performance.
It also means he can finally spare you a glance as he finds you in the crowd, a smile creeping on his face as he sees you standing with pride. You look hopeful that he might win and with your backing, that’s all he needs. He wishes he could win this without Sunghoon performing with the intent of losing, but he still has time to achieve that - your safety is all that matters.
As the music fades to its final notes, Minhee brings his performance to conclusion, his arms outstretched in triumph as he basks in the adulation of the crowd. The cheers that erupt from them are so loud you swear the glass might break. You can see the commentators also getting up in excitement, clearly enthralled by his performance.
And when Minhee makes his last bow, a sense of fulfilment sweeps over you, knowing that he had not only met, but exceeded all expectations that he and others had set for himself.
Gliding off the ice, he is met with the bone-crushing embrace of Coach Kim who adorns a wide smile on his face and tears in his eyes. The weight of their shared journey is evident in the strength of their embrace and Coach Kim's words of praise and encouragement are lost in the roar of the crowd, but the pride shining in his eyes says it all.
You want to be at Minhee's side, to share in the excitement of his triumph and to lavish him with praise. However, as you watch from the sidelines, witnessing Coach Kim and Coach Lee wrap him in a cocoon of love and praise, you can find comfort in knowing that he is receiving the ovation and admiration he deserves.
Minhee's heart expands with pride and delight, filling his chest with an incredible sensation of accomplishment. The excitement of the moment envelopes him like a warm hug, putting him on cloud 9.
Coach Kim leads him to the seating area where he must sit to see his final score. You sit with ease, knowing that this will be his highest mark to date, an accomplishment in itself.
As Minhee awaits the display of his scores, a nervous energy pulses through him, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation. Every muscle in his body tenses as he fixates on the screen, his breath caught in his throat as he waits for the verdict of his performance.
Then, in a flurry of movement, the numbers appear on the screen, each category receiving high points for technicality and artistry, and Minhee's eyes widen in disbelief. The numbers on the screen read 298.5, causing both you and Minhee’s faces to mimic one another despite being on opposite ends of the arena.
Having never before topped a score of 213.74 - an incredible accomplishment in and of itself - his new record catapults him to a whole new level, putting him alongside figure skating giants like Nathan Chen and Yuzuru Hanyu.
You don’t even think Sunghoon has scored that well before.
Minhee stands frozen for a moment, absorbing the weight of his achievement, before a radiant smile breaks across his face. It's a culmination of years of dedication, sacrifice, and unwavering determination.
“Fuck me!” he shouts, jumping up to hug Coach Kim once again. There are more elegant ways to celebrate than swearing on national television, but you can’t blame him for being completely besotted with himself.
The crowd’s cheers die down and the atmosphere returns to a calm-like state, only chatter filling the silence as people discuss their amazement over your brother's skating. You could not be more proud of him if you tried.
Now you just need to wait for Sunghoon, hoping the tremendous score Minhee got would serve as enough influence to just do his best and not throw it for the sake of your mother’s stupid consequences.
An hour passes after Minhee's electrifying performance, the energy in the arena is crackling with excitement as the crowd eagerly awaits Sunghoon's turn on the ice. He is the golden boy of the figure skating world, and there is a lot of pressure on him to succeed, however, if he fails this one time, no one will be able to blame him or bat an eye at it; the score your brother set is almost impossible to beat.
You sit on the edge of your seat, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him lumber up, his movements cautious as he tests his ankle to ensure it's ready for his performance.
He glides onto the ice, warming up with some jumps and simple stretches. His ankle, still tender from the previous injury, protests with each turn and twist, but Sunghoon pushes through the pain. This was a 2-minute and 40-second skate, it’ll be over in a flash and he just has to get through it.
Sunghoon won’t admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but being in front of all these people is terrifying him. The last time he performed this skate, in this outfit, in front of this many people, was the day he snapped his ankle. Not only the injury from it but the emotional damage it caused was hard to live with, and now it’s almost as if he is living that day all over again.
He glances around the family area to find you, sitting in your seat with adoration spread across your entire face. It’s like you have him under a spell, how his worries and fears seem to melt away as his eyes meet yours; the love between you casts a blanket of protection over his worries, the thoughts of making a complete full of himself gone so quickly, simply because of the sparkle in your eye.
Sunghoon skates over to your side, flashing you his beautiful smile, your favourite canines on full display. He looks so beautiful right now, the pressure normally placed on his shoulders by his mother has now vanished. This is the first competition he has participated in without the nagging of being perfect gnawing in his brain.
It’s comforting to know that even when he loses today, he has someone to run to who will show him love and appreciation for his efforts.
However, the words of his mother's promise from their earlier conversation twirl in his brain. Sunghoon wonders if they really could reconcile through all of this, after everything they’ve been through. He wanted love and his mother couldn’t provide him with that. But maybe she really is willing to make an effort, perhaps all they needed was some time to mend their relationship.
Once Nationals is over he’ll deal with that, but for now, he needs to focus. He might be set to lose but he will be damned if he comes anything but second.
Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon puts his arm in the air, gearing up for his performance as he stands in position. He looks like a vision in his costume, the spotlight on him makes the jewels shine brighter and the silhouette of his trimmed figure under the shirt is more evident than the first time you saw him in it. Rina had a talent for creating clothes but perhaps she should consider a career in designing skating costumes.
As the haunting melody of "Ocean Eyes" by Billie Eilish fills the arena, Sunghoon begins his routine. You don’t realise you’re holding your breath and your hands are clasped so tight together that they’re turning white. You want him to do well, to show everyone that even with an injury still looming under his taped up ankle, he is still miles above the rest.
Sunghoon launches into a flawless triple axel as the music swells, his body soaring through the air with precision and grace. He lands it clean, a small smile on his face despite his ankle pulsing. He hadn’t realised how sore it had been over the past few days, perhaps all that rehearsal time and coming back too early had finally done some damage. But that doesn’t matter right now, what matters is finishing the routine.
And to have fun.
With each beautiful turn and twist, Sunghoon's is reviving a passion that had laid dormant for far too long. It's a revelation, a flashback to his old self, a child consumed by the pure excitement of skating.
In the rink, he's letting go of his inhibitions and embracing the moment, a contrast to the stoicism that has defined almost all of his past competitions. The judges can see it too, with the joy he is showcasing through each glide of his blades across the ice, they are mesmerised. This is the Sunghoon that the people fell in love with, the skater that made them proud.
When he reaches the finale of his skate, performing a stunning combination spin that leaves the audience breathless, Sunghoon realises he has accomplished something far better than any medal or acclaim could ever provide. In this moment of perfect bliss, he reconnects with his passion, purpose, and the simple joy of skating.
You had shown him how to love skating again throughout your relationship, now added with the lack of pressure to win, he can finally breathe.
He’s home.
You are the first one to stand up, applauding your man for his flawless skate. It was perfect, he was perfect. The crowd follows suit, cheering and yelling as he bows, letting the praise wash over his body. You could not be prouder of him, the tears in your eyes are a testament to your feelings.
This is your first time seeing him in competition as his girlfriend which probably adds to the swelling of your heart, but it’s more than that. You have been a fan of Sunghoon for a lot longer and as a fan, there is nothing more fulfilling than seeing your favourite person achieve something, even if the accomplishment is happiness, you want him to be bathed in it.
However, with Sunghoon performing possibly one of his best skates in the past couple of years, it does set in the back of your mind that he still has to lose. You told him to go out there and give it everything he has but now the moment is getting closer and closer to determining your fate, you’re a little on edge.
You’re trying not to think about it because you know Minhee has done amazing and if he truly does beat Sunghoon today, you can breathe easy knowing you made the right call and that Minhee did this all on his own.
Your brother needs this.
Sunghoon stands straight and skates around the rink, lapping up the crowd's adoration. You’re too caught up in your head you almost forget your surprise for him; it wasn’t just the sign that you had planned.
Traditionally, skaters get things thrown into the ring; plushies, roses, the whole lot. Minhee was partial to receiving little dog plushies and yellow sunflowers - the perfect accompaniment to his brand. And Sunghoon would always receive roses and penguin toys, but you wanted to throw something that as he saw it on the ice, he would know instantly that it was from you.
Delving into your bag, your fingers close around the familiar packaging of Haribos. With a proud smile, you launch them onto the pristine ice, a playful gesture laden with significance. For you and Sunghoon, the colourful sweeties hold a special place in your hearts.
It was a reminder of not only you but of his dad. It’s something so silly but sacred to you both, the first knot in your invisible string. His father had been the bridge to connect you both when you were younger and if he could see you both now, he would be filled with unfiltered happiness.
Gliding gracefully toward your side, he spots the sweets nestled within the sea of roses and looks up at you, his eyes widening in glee.
With the Haribos clutched to his chest, he silently mouths 'I love you,' to which you reciprocate with a beaming grin, watching fondly as he skates back towards the rink's exit.
Coach Lee is the first to greet him, ruffling his hair and patting him on the shoulder as he sings his praises. It’s a little strange not seeing his mother there but Sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, too busy basking in the love from his coach.
Walking to the couch area, he sits and awaits his score. It just has to be under 298.5, that’s all it has to be. He grips the packet of sweets tight as he rethinks his whole performance. Perhaps he skated a little too well and that scared him because that can only mean you’re in danger of having those men after you.
He can defend you from a hockey player, but against a literal loan shark, he's out of his depth with that one.
As the scores begin to round up on the giant screen, your heart races with anticipation. Each number revealed feels like a drumbeat, echoing the beating of your heart. Usually, you would be begging it to slow down, your heart typically adorning a rapid pace in events like these, yet it is so still you think it might stop. It only seems to beat as each individual score is revealed.
Sunghoon is the same, fondling the Haribos like a stress ball as he sees the high scores, some seem higher than Minhee’s which nearly puts him into cardiac arrest. If he wins over Minhee, he might vomit all over his coach.
Then - as if the world has stopped - the final score flashes on the screen and materialises itself before you and Sunghoon.
Gasping, you drop your sign and shoot up, mouth hung open as your eyes stay glued to the numbers before you.
296.21
Minhee won.
Minhee won.
“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, a smile splits your cheeks and your knees shake under you. Your brother won, through all his hard work and determination, he beat Sunghoon. And not only that, he bet him with his highest score to match. Sunghoon’s performance was awe-inducing, clearly indicated by the momentous score he just received, yet Minhee still managed to overtake him.
As Coach Lee offers Sunghoon a consoling pat on the shoulder, the atmosphere is thick with tension. Yet, Sunghoon can't feign disappointment. At this moment, there's only one thought racing through his mind.
You're safe.
Once the commotion settles down around the arena, the final scoreboard is unveiled to reveal your two boys at the top, miles above the others. It’s a moment you never want to forget, seeing their names beside one another with their respective medals makes you feel a happiness that you know comes few and far between.
The staff set up the podiums on the ice which are soon to hold your brother and boyfriend in pride of place. This is new, they’ve been battling each other for the top spot their entire careers yet this one feels slightly different.
Perhaps it’s because if your mother holds her end of the bargain, you’re free of the debt that you didn’t even create and she is hopefully nowhere to be seen after today. You want to be sad about it, but regardless of how strange it will be to no longer have her there, you’re thankful that Minhee can be free of her burden and you free of her deceit.
You watch on as Minhee and Sunghoon skate to their places, carefully stepping on the white boxes as the triumphant music plays through the speakers. They have done so well, much better than anyone could have anticipated.
With each medal ceremoniusly placed around their necks, the weight of the accomplishment settles upon Minhee. He thinks about what this means for you both and tears well up in his eyes.
You’re both going to have to start from scratch and find a new home to call yours. But he is also going to the Olympics, something he has dreamed of since he was a little boy, something you have wanted for him since he incessantly started talking about it.
His heart is filled with bittersweet symphonies as he looks ahead but he knows one thing is for certain - he will make sure you’re both happy.
“You can cry, y’know,” Sunghoon whispers beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing tight. When Sunghoon won his first National Gold, he wept like a baby in front of everyone and the pictures snapped became memes on Twitter by the next day.
Sniffling back his emotions, Minhee shakes his head. He refuses to let the floodgates open, fearing he won't be able to stem the tide once it begins. Each tear would symbolise the myriad of emotions he's bottled up over the past few months.
Instead, Minhee leans in close to Sunghoon, his words a soft murmur against his ear. "When I asked you to throw it, I didn't mean by the skin of your teeth. I almost lost," his voice carries a hint of frustration, though it's tempered by the overwhelming happiness of their victory.
Though Minhee is elated at the win, there's a simmering undercurrent of anger towards Sunghoon for nearly jeopardizing their chance to resolve the situation.
"But you didn't," Sunghoon responds with a playful grin, though Minhee finds little amusement in the situation. With a sigh, Sunghoon explains, "Y/N asked me not to, okay? You've known her your whole life, you understand how hard it is to say no to her."
Your brother can't help but agree; there's an undeniable sway you hold over others. Minhee nods, straightening up as the photographer captures a few shots of the medalists.
Turning to face Minhee, the silver medalist offers reassurance once the pictures have been taken, "You did this on your own, that's all she wanted, okay? You have a sister who believes in you more than anything else in the world. In a way, it's her trust in you that propelled you to this moment. People would do anything for that kind of support," Sunghoon whispers the last sentence, acknowledging the depth of his own longing for such unwavering belief.
Minhee knows he is lucky to have you in his corner. Often, he wonders what it would have been like to not have you by his side, and looking at Sunghoon’s dejected face now, he sees what it’s like.
“You have her too, Sunghoon. She’s got enough room in her heart for both of us, to watch us both succeed,” Minhee smiles softly, nudging his old rival with his arm, “Just don’t steal her from me, she’s all I have now.”
“You’re wrong,” Sunghoon wraps his arm around his newfound friend, “You’ve got me! Some would say that’s better than Y/N,” he exclaims with enthusiasm.
Rolling his eyes, Minhee fights a smile as he pushes Sunghoon off of him, a laugh escaping his lips. Sunghoon will fit right into his life, that much he’s certain of now.
_____
You stand amidst the bustling crowd, eagerly awaiting the arrival of your boyfriend and brother. The arena is alive with excitement, vibrant with the chatter of spectators praising both Sunghoon and Minhee's impressive performances.
As people stream past you, caught up in the post-competition buzz, you can't help but feel a swell of pride washing over you. It's almost as if you were the one receiving the accolades, so deeply invested are you in their success.
Then, you spot them making their way towards you, their medals gleaming proudly around their necks even as they've already changed into their regular clothes. To be fair, if you had won a gold or silver medal, you know you wouldn't ever want to take it off either.
With a quickening of your heart, you jog up to meet them halfway, your body colliding with Minhee’s as you hug him tight, squeezing him so hard that he could pop. But instead of complaining, he reciprocates with the same amount of enthusiasm.
“I can’t believe I won,” he says quietly, scared that if he says it too loud someone will pull him from this dream he is living in.
"I knew you could do it, Mini,” you mutter into his chest, your face squashed against him.
Kissing the crown of your head, he pushes you away, “Sunghoon told me you know about everything, what I asked him to do for me,” he says almost ashamed, holding your head close to his chest so you can’t see his face. He doesn’t want you to think less of him for having to beg Sunghoon to help him get you out of this mess you were unknowingly a part of, “He also told me that you told him to go against my plan.”
“I believed in you, Minhee,” you finally fight to pull your head from his embrace, gazing into his eyes as you try to project the belief you have onto him, “I knew you could do this on your own. No underhanded tactics, just you and your skates. I have always believed in you like that,” you pout as you see the words sink into his brain, a soft glow rushing over his face as your words instil him wil self-belief.
“Thank you, Bubs, for always being here for me,” he closes his eyes, a determined expression painting his features, “If she tries to come back and hurt you in any way or if she doesn’t keep her word I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe,” he says, speaking about your mother. It was hard for him to even call her that anymore.
Minhee says the words with conviction as he stares deep into your eyes. In some weird way, your mother's shenanigans have helped you and Minhee grow a bond stronger than ever before, something that should be deemed impossible, yet here you are.
Feeling the warmth of Minhee's embrace, you nod against his chest, your words a solemn promise, "Me too. I'll make sure you're living the life you want, the life you deserve."
The sentiment hangs in the air between you, a shared understanding of the depth of your commitment to each other's happiness and fulfillment. For a few precious moments, you simply hold onto each other, drawing strength from the connection you share as siblings.
But as your boyfriend coughs softly, attempting to subtly regain your attention, you gently pull away from Minhee's embrace, though the warmth of his presence lingers with you.
Turning towards your boyfriend with a reassuring smile, “Are you jealous you’re not getting attention?”
You finally throw yourself into Sunghoon's arms, a wide grin spreading across your face as you greet him with a deep, passionate kiss. You’re so full of love that if you don’t pass it onto him through your tongue sweeping into his mouth, you might implode.
As you break away, a sense of elation fills the air around you. Sunghoon's arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you close as if he never wants to let you go. His eyes sparkle with pride and affection, mirroring your own emotions.
"You did amazing, Hoonie," you whisper, holding onto him tighter as you pass your affection from your body to his. "Thank you so much." Your gratitude flows freely, a testament to your appreciation for his trust in your judgment that Minhee was more than capable of succeeding on his own.
Sunghoon sets you down gently, his hand cupping your cheek as he places a feather-light kiss on your nose, "You're welcome, Sweets," he murmurs affectionately, "Although, I did get a bollocking from Minhee back in the locker room," he adds with a laugh.
Minhee grunts, crossing his arms in mock annoyance, "Well, he deserved it, skating so well and all that," he says with a playful pout, eliciting laughter from you and Sunghoon.
"I'll take the compliment, Baby," Sunghoon retorts, making exaggerated kissy faces at Minhee, the playful banter between the two filling the air with warmth and joy.
“Yeah yeah, look, can you stop hogging my manager for a minute,” Minhee rolls his eyes as he speaks.
But you’re confused by his statement, "Manager?" you repeat sceptically, withdrawing from Sunghoon's embrace to face your brother directly, "What do you mean, manager?"
Minhee shrugs nonchalantly, but you can see the flicker of anticipation in his eyes, "Well, Mum's no longer in the picture, so I'm in need of a manager. And I thought you would be perfect," he explains, his words carrying a mix of hope and excitement.
The weight of his request settles heavily on your shoulders. You've never managed anything more than closing up shop at work, and the idea of being in charge of Minhee's entire career feels overwhelming. Even though you’re at Uni studying Events Management, it wasn’t exactly heavy on the management part, it certainly hasn’t equipped you with the skills to handle such responsibility.
Minhee senses your hesitation, and he steps closer, his expression earnest. "Bubs, I trust you more than anyone else in the world," he says softly, his voice pleading, "And just think of all the travelling you'll get to do, all the contacts you'll make. Please, Y/N. I can't go to the Olympics without you."
The mention of the Olympics sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. The event is being held in Paris this year which is a dream destination you've longed to visit since you were a little girl, and the opportunity to be a part of Minhee's journey to the Olympics fills you with both fear and exhilaration.
"Manager?" you repeat, still trying to wrap your head around the idea. The thought of being responsible for Minhee's career is daunting, but his trust in you is undeniable.
Minhee nods, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, "Yeah, manager," he confirms, his voice tinged with hope. His confirmation of words hit you with a newfound gravity, you realise just how much this means to him. The thought of being by his side, supporting him on his journey fills you with a sense of purpose.
"Okay," you say finally, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach, "I'll do it. I'll be your manager."
A wide smile breaks across Minhee's face, relief flooding his features. He pulls you into a tight hug, his gratitude palpable.
"Thank you, Y/N," he murmurs against your hair, "You won't regret it, I promise."
Minhee pulls back from the embrace, his enthusiasm obvious, and you can't help but feel a burst of determination rush through you. You're going to attempt to be the best manager this world has ever seen. But when the reality of your new responsibility settles in, a question arises in the back of your mind.
"What about you, Sunghoon?" you inquire, turning to face your boyfriend, "What are you going to do now that you don't have a manager either?"
Sunghoon shrugs casually, though there's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "I'm figuring it out," he replies with a nonchalant smile, "I don’t know if I really need one."
You can sense the unease lurking beneath his easygoing facade, and it tugs at your heartstrings. While Minhee's proposition has filled you with a sense of purpose, you can't help but worry about Sunghoon navigating the uncertain waters of his career without the support of a manager.
But before you can voice your concerns, Sunghoon reaches out, squeezing your hand reassuringly, "Don't worry about me, Sweets," he says, his voice soft but resolute. "I'll find my way, just like you and Minhee will."
He has a weird look on his face as he rattles his brain, wondering whether to let the next words slip out of his mouth. You stand patiently waiting for him to speak.
“I uh, I think the Olympics is going to be my last big competition,” he says quietly but the words ring in your and Minhee’s ears as your expressions fall into disbelief.
"What do you mean?" you reply, your voice laced with concern. The idea of Sunghoon giving up skating, the very thing he's dedicated his life to, feels unfathomable to you. After all the years of relentless training and unwavering determination, it seems unthinkable that he would consider walking away from it all.
Sunghoon had thought about it for a while, about giving up this life for a more simplistic one but the plunge always seemed too deep. But skating today without worry or fear and no pressure to win, gave him the courage to take the jump.
“I’m gonna ask Coach Kim if I can study under him and coach the kids. I’ve enjoyed doing it when I can and I think it could be good for me,” he explains.
"But this is your dream, Sunghoon," you protest softly, unable to shake the feeling of disbelief, "You've worked so hard for this."
Sunghoon shakes his head, offering you a gentle smile as he squeezes your hand in reassurance, "I found my dream," he says earnestly, his gaze softening as he looks at you, "And it's not about winning first place at competitions. I don’t need to chase anything else when everything I need is in front of me.”
You could melt at his words, the depth of his love and contentment washing over you like a comforting embrace. Sunghoon's clarity and conviction fill you with a sense of awe and admiration, even as you grapple with the weight of his decision.
In that moment, you realise just how much love this man has for you and how grateful you are to have him by your side. Although you need to make sure this is exactly what he wants.
"But what about all the years of hard work?" you find yourself asking, unable to shake off the concern that gnaws at your heart, "You've sacrificed so much to get to where you are."
Sunghoon's gaze softens, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand, "It wasn't all for nothing, Y/N," he reassures you, his voice tender, "Every moment on the ice, every win and loss, has led me here, to this realisation. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world."
You want to cry as a fan and mourn the loss of one of the best skaters in the industry, but as his other half, you are so immensely proud of him for following his heart and not just doing what others tell him to do.
"And besides," Sunghoon continues, a playful glint dancing in his eyes, "I'll still be skating, just in a different capacity. And who knows? Maybe I'll even finally teach you to do an axel.”
"In her dreams!" Minhee interjects with a booming laugh, breaking into your warm moment with his characteristic humour.
You shoot your brother a playful glare, flipping him off, but your attention remains firmly fixed on Sunghoon, "Okay, if this is what you want, I'll support you," you say, your voice filled with unwavering commitment.
Sunghoon's smile widens at your words, a wave of gratitude washing over him. "Thank you, Sweets," he murmurs, his voice soft with emotion as he pulls you closer, "I love you so fucking much, Y/N."
"I love you too, Hoonie," you reply, your heart swelling with love. "Forever."
With Minhee's career taking off and Sunghoon embarking on a new journey, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement for what the future holds. Everything has fallen into place, it just took reaching melting point to figure it all out.
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#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smut#melting point#aj writes
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𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬
✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader
✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.
Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"
OR
The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.
✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU
✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I wanna leave this here as sort of a trigger warning: this work features a plus size main character and throughout the story there will be mean comments from characters about her body and her journey dealing with said comments. A lot of it comes from my own experience as a (now ex-ish) plus size girl myself and my path to living peacefully within my body. And although this work is about Y/N's relationship with the boys, I like to think that she still would've continued to grow and blossom happily on her own. Let this be something you learn from this fic, as I say right on the first chapter: You don't have to love the way you look right away, you just can't let it stop you from doing the things you want and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.
Thank you for reading <3
P.S: Red daisies, like many red flowers, represent love and romance. Florists often use them to communicate affection to someone who doesn’t know how beautiful they are—a.k.a. beauty unknown to the possessor.
(Fanfic masterlist)
(support me on my ko-fi)
°•. ✿ .•°
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
The pattern in your relationships - if you could call them that - was tiring, to say the least. Once, they might have been soul crushing, but time and repetition took away the novelty of your pain and now the endgame was a mild, resented disappointment.
It started with kindness and a gentle smile, mainly from your part. You treated anyone who gave you any smidgen of attention with the utmost sweetness, hoping your energy would be matched. And sometimes it was, for a while. Sometimes you got to be on the receiving end of a blinding smile or a casual touch and you allowed yourself to hope - no, pray -that that could be it. That someone, some modern day knight in shiny armor , saw through your looks and decided that you were deserving of love, despite societal norms,
But men had a way of setting you up for disappointment. A talent, truly.
You were tired, you decided that night. No, beyond that, you were exhausted, scarred, bitter, hopeless, resentful… You could keep going. You could list every bad feeling you had been carrying in your chest by alphabetical order or by how badly they hurt and honestly you just wanted it to stop.
Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy, you wondered watching the boy you had been seeing for a few weeks make fun of you in front of his circle of friends at the party you were both at. Would you never be allowed to be happy just the way you were?
Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy?
“Yeah, she’s nice” Junsuu said, winking suggestively at his giggling friends “if you know what I mean.” you felt your face heat up in humiliation at the renewed round of laughter “But we just don’t match, like, physically. You know, looks-wise.”
“Right” someone agreed way too enthusiastically, sending a spear through your heart “I really just can’t see you with someone like her.”
What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.
Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?
“You’re right” you said out loud, drawing attention to yourself. Filled with hatred (for him, the world, the circumstances), your heart had no room to be mortified when all eyes turned to you “we don’t match.”
You watched as Junsuu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to hear, much less reply “I am a big girl” you continued, words dripping with rage “And I know for a fact that there’s nothing big about you.”
You turned around to leave the room, cringing at the petty comeback, ignoring the murmurs and Junsuu’s panicked calls of your name. Walking fast, you fled the scene of the last heartbreak you would allow yourself to go through, deciding that a change was needed, but not the change everyone wanted from you.
Despite the rumors, you didn’t turn into a huge bitch overnight, didn’t start kicking puppies or spitting on the poor. Truly, the only thing you did was establish boundaries and reevaluate the amount of respect some people deserved, but very quickly people started seeing you as some sort of villain, especially when they realized how little you cared for how they saw you. How disrespectful of you to not allow yourself to be disrespected, right?
At first, there was still an air of uncertainty about you - years and years of non-reciprocal niceties drilled into your brain, habits hard to quit. But the more you let go of those things, these tiny acts of self-aggression disguised as pleasantries and altruism, the lighter you felt; Your days became easier to get through, existing within your body felt less and less like a punishment. You had yet to reach an Instagram-worthy level of body positivity, but you had become accustomed to body neutrality. You didn’t have to love the way you looked right away, you just couldn’t let it stop you from doing the things you wanted and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.
And respect you started to demand and much happier you became, living in relative peace and solitude - safe by a few close friends - up until your days started being pestered by seven headaches you could not seem to shake away.
—-
Jungkook was the one that saw you first.
It was 3 weeks into the semester and he finally decided it was the perfect time to start going to classes, sitting in the back and only listening to about 25% of what was being said, mind floating towards more important subjects such as the package of ramen waiting for him at home. Only mildly interested in what the professor had to teach, he couldn’t help but to be startled when everyone started getting up from their seats to shuffle around the room. “What’s going on?” he asked the guy sitting next to him.
“Professor gave us a duo assignment.” the other man said, standing up “You're with Y/N.”
“Who?”
The guy just pointed towards you with his chin, redirecting Jungkook’s attention before leaving. You were sitting a couple rows further down, hunched over your little green IPad as you wrote something with impressive velocity. Jungkook walked over to you, already mentally going over what he would have to do to charm you into doing everything on your own “Y/N?” he called and you raised your head.
You were pretty, he noticed with satisfaction, all bright eyes and lovely features, curves everywhere he looked “Yes?”
“I’m Jungkook.” he extended his hand with a casual smirk “The professor put us together for this project.”
There had been a small, but pleasant and polite smile on your face up until he said those words, replaced by pursed lips and an arched brow. “Yes, I know. We’ve had classes together for over a year now and been partnered together before.”
Uh oh. “Right” he coughed awkwardly, fumbling under your hardened stare “so, about this project…”
“We will meet once a week,” you said, straightforward as you turned your eyes back to your sticker-filled IPad “I will go over the theme and split the work evenly, so give me your number and I can text you with what you’re supposed to do.”
“Woah, woah, asking for my number already?” he said in a flirting manner, sitting on top of your table so he could be directly in front of you.
“Would you prefer it if I emailed it to you?” you asked without looking up.
“Actually, I was thinking you could help me out a bit,” he placed his finger under your chin, raising your face towards him “you know I have soccer practice and…”
You pushed his hand away “Unless you’re playing at the World Cup, I can’t see how that would be more important than your studies, so you either do your part of the assignment or get an F in it, I don’t care. I won’t do all the work for you, Jeon. Not again.”
Again? Jungkook winced, trying to remember when you had met before. Surely he would remember getting his head bitten off by a snappy, pretty thing like you, wouldn’t he? Surely your attitude would stand out to him amongst all the sweetness and compliance he received just for existing and smiling.
“Here’s my number.” you gave him a piece of paper with your digits written in gel sparkly ink “Text me when you decide if you want to pass this class. Good day.”
You looked down again, going back to your notes, signing that the conversation was over before he even had the chance to add anything more. He jumped off the desk and stepped away, looking back to see if you were looking at him, but there wasn’t a single glance from your part.
Shit. Shit. He actually did have to pass this class, otherwise his overbearing soccer coach would kick him off the team. He stared down at your number, wondering what he would have to do to get you to cut him a little slack and forgive him for absolutely forgetting about your existence.
—
“Hey, this is Jungkook” the text from an unknown number said “looking forward to us working together. We should get dinner sometime, get to know each other better.”
You read over the text once more, willing your heart to slow down its beating. Sure, Jungkook was charming and handsome, but you had seen this dance before. He would talk his way into your good graces, making you laugh and giggle until you had a four thousand word essay done with both your names in it and your texts to him would go unanswered and unseen.
This was not your first hurtful rodeo. You put your phone away, facing down, ignoring as the poor device vibrated itself off the table with the upcoming texts.
Meanwhile, across campus, Jungkook was fuming.
“Or breakfast. We should get breakfast. I know a great place.” he tried once again, but his message was left unread. Still, he persisted.
“I have a lot of great ideas for this assignment. Don’t you want to know them?” he texted, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea on what the assignment was even about.
“You know, it’s rude to leave a guy hanging.”
“How can we do this if you won’t even text me back?”
“I thought we were in this together.”
“You know, like High School Musical.”
He kept typing out absurdity after absurdity, hoping you would dignify one with an answer. He just needed one opportunity, one opening…
His text stopped going through.
“She blocked me!” he gasped out loud.
“Who?” his roommate, Taehyung asked from where he laid on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.
“This girl in my class. We have this project together and she blocked me!”
Taehyung sent a disbelieving look his way “Were you actually planning to do the work?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously not.”
His friend rolled his eyes “Obviously not. So what’s your plan here?”
Jungkook didn’t answer, too busy looking for alternative ways to contact you. After a few minutes of research, he found your Instagram. You were cute, he noticed again, scrolling through your few posts, all relatively recent. You had a very specific style, a tasteful mix or dark and edgy with splashes of pink and bows, tight corsets under leather jackets that he couldn’t help but stare appreciatively, the flattering material clinging to your waist line and pushing your breasts up, exposing the soft freckled top of cleavage to his always hungry eyes. In your pictures, your eyes shone brightly, crinkling at the sides from your ever present smile and he could not understand why you hadn’t directed one of those to him.
It was unsettling, to say the least, but he could not allow his annoyance to take over. He needed your help if he wanted to pass that class and if he had to use unconventional ways to get your attention, he would.
And so, much like a little boy pulling at a girl’s braids, he started liking and spamming the comments of every single post you had.
—
There were whispers all around you, your worst nightmare.
You were at the school library, getting work done while drinking from your fourth cup of coffee, hands shaking due to caffeine and anxiety, your ever present friends. You tried to focus on your books and carefully written notes, but every word you could barely hear and every look you felt over your shoulder seemed to dig claws into your skin. You knew what they were saying. You heard it all the way from your dorm to your classes and couldn’t seem to escape them.
“Did you see Jungkook’s comments on her pictures? What’s that about?”
“It’s not like there’s a lot to comment, is there?”
“Maybe he thought it was someone else?”
“It’s probably a prank.”
“I bet he was hacked.”
Of course, why else would someone like Jungkook - a campus prince, popular soccer player, heartthrob - show interest in you?
It hurt, but a small part of you still agreed with those mean spirited whispers. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing and will those thoughts away. You knew better, had learned better than to measure your value by how interested some boy was in you.
When you opened your eyes again, Jungkook was in front of you.
You barely had time to process his presence when the voices picked up volume, your skin prickling and eyes aching to remain dry.
“What’s Jungkook doing with Fat Y/N?”
That word shouldn’t be as hurtful as it was - after all, it was just an adjective, just the current state of your body that served only to carry your thinking mind, your feeling heart. But people always said it like a curse, wielding it like a sword.
You closed your eyes again and when you opened once more, Jungkook was still there. Looking furious.
“What are they saying?”
“What they always said” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking down at your papers.
Jungkook didn’t move for a while, hearing people pretend to whisper around you but it was clear that the motherfuckers wanted you to hear. Was it always like this for you, he wondered, watching as you focused on whatever book you had in front of you, hunched over with tense shoulders, your face a far cry from the luminescent one he saw on your Instagram, not a hint of that smile he wanted directed at him so unreasonably.
He couldn’t just stand there and watch you struggle to keep your posture.
You felt him standing up and leaving more than you saw him. Good, you thought. He should leave, like everyone did, scared away by that one word that followed you around like a brand. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you, you assumed bitterly, and there was no place in your life for people who didn’t want you proudly by your side…
Jungkook sat back in the chair in front of you and you couldn’t help but gape at the impressive bouquet of red daisies he extended towards you.
“Take it” he said, but you couldn’t move, could barely hear the furious voices around you over the roaring beat of your heart.
You… You had never gotten flowers.
“Take it” he repeated “I almost got run over because of this, the least you can do is accept it.”
“Jungkook” you whispered, dumbfoundedly accepting the bouquet “what’s this?”
“People keep doubting I could be interested in you” he said and there was an edge to his tone you did not expect “maybe this could help clear up some rumors.”
“This is not your battle to fight” you held the flowers close to your chest carefully, looking up at him with distrust, unable to understand his motives “I’m used to this sort of thing and I don’t care about those stupid rumors.”
You were used to it? That just made Jungkook angrier. How could you be used to that sort of treatment?
Jungkook was a lot of things - spoiled, a little lazy, sometimes a dick. But he wasn’t a bigot and he wasn’t about to stand around and let you become used to being disrespected if there was something - anything! - he could do about it “I like picking up fights”.
“Is this just pity?” you asked and he could see walls around you that stood thousands of feet tall “Is this because of that stupid assignment? Because I’m not going to do all the work just because you got me some flowers…”
He raised his hands and smiled at you “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll do my work” he said, a new goal in mind as he saw you recoil from him with eyes filled with wariness like a suspicious kitten “You said once a week, right? How’s friday for you?”
You still clung to your bouquet like a lifeline “That works, I guess.”
“Great!” he clapped loudly, standing up and catching the eye of those around him “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart” you mumbled, but he pretended not to hear as he crossed the table around to your side, quickly leaving a kiss to your heated cheek before you had the chance to react.
“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll see you around” he said, making sure everyone in the library could hear him “do me a favor and unblock me, ok?”
You flipped him off, both for stealing a kiss and that stupid nickname, but he just laughed it off.
“That’s my girl” he said and the library erupted in renewed whispers.
°•. ✿ .•°
𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝
°•. ✿ .•°
[Red Daisies taglist: @purplelady85 ]
[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ; @betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ; @kayleefriedchicken ; @jkselcouth ; @ivrose21 ; @svnbangtansworld ]
#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts#jungkook x reader#alexl red daisies#ot7 x reader#ot7 x you#bts x y/n#kim taehyung x reader#park jimin x reader#kim namjoon x reader#jung hoseok x reader#min yoongi x reader#kim seokjin x reader#ot7 fluff#bts romance#bts college au
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Unholy*
Summary: You follow a course through your job and the teacher who's giving the course is everything you've ever dreamed of.
Pairing: teacher!harry x reader
Word count: 6.2K
Warnings: Pussy eating, protective sex, squirting, p in v.
A/N: This is partially based on a true story. Nearly everything but the smut is what actually happened and I just had to write it.
Ever since starting your new job, you must attend an internal program at headquarters for three-ish months, completely designed to train you for all the ins and outs of your position. It’s not like you have to go there every single week. But you have a perfect little schedule; you go to headquarters two weeks in a row, two days a week followed by a week where you practice all you’ve learned. Then two weeks of your training, two days a week and you repeat it over and over again for 11 weeks total.
Since headquarters is an hour and fifteen-minute drive from your home, they offer you to stay the night at a hotel near them so you don’t have to keep on driving back and forth. They also pay for your dinner in the restaurant of the hotel and since you’re not the only student taking the course who lives relatively far away, you made some friends and all eat together. After dinner, you all hang out, down a few more glasses of chardonnay, and have a great night.
The course itself is presented by two men, Chris and Harry. Chris is a couple of years older than you are and Harry is roughly the same age. Both of them are a treat to look at so whether you like the course or not, there’s always something interesting to occupy your brain with. Although if you’re truly honest, you do have a favorite and it gets worse when the end of the three months is in sight.
***
It’s the second to last week of your program. Normally you travel by train, read a book while you’re at it, and enjoy the peaceful start of your day. But today was different, you’re a bit in a hurry and decide to take your car and make the long ride yourself. Putting up some music and singing along at the top of your lungs.
Traffic isn’t as bad as you expected and instead of being stuck in your car for over two hours, it only took one and half hours. Normally the route is packed with traffic, causing a lot of slow-riding cars and traffic jams. But again, today was different.
Being 55 minutes early before the start of your training, you’re left with some more time to yourself. The book you normally would read on the train is in your bag anyway. So you grab a cup of coffee, pull the book out of your bag, and start reading to somehow still get a bit of the quiet morning you’re used to.
You just finished reading your chapter when the door of the room swings open. You look up and your eyes meet the pretty green eyes you’ve grown to adore. You never imagined you’d still crush as hard at 26 as you did at 16. It’s like the teen inside you is awakened by Harry’s chocolate curls, green eyes, and puffy lips.
“Good morning!” You greet him.
“Good morning. You’re early!” He chirps with a warm smile on his face. He always seems cheerful, just happy to be here. It makes you feel so welcome in this company. “How long have you been here for?” He adds.
“Not more than 15 minutes I think, honestly didn’t really track time.” You answer.
“Did the elevator work when you got here? I just had to climb the stairs.” He continues, there’s not even a shortness of breath even though he just climbed all 17 flights of stairs to reach the level on which the company is located.
“You’re kidding! How are you still breathing?” You joke, but you’re actually not kidding. If you had to walk all those stairs, you’d be out of breath by the time you reach the 5th floor. Harry however just laughs at your statement before he puts down his backpack behind his desk.
He made up this little routine of settling down for the day. First, he places down his backpack and takes out his laptop. Then he opens his laptop to boot it before he pulls his sweater over his head. This man doesn’t like to wear coats, he just puts a sweater on top of his outfit and uses that to keep himself warm.
You thought you sort of removed him from your mind after not seeing him for a couple of weeks. Harry went on a well-deserved vacation and Chris took over during that time. So the last time you actually saw Harry was 5 weeks ago. But the second he pulled that sweater of his over his head, pulling his shirt a tiny bit upwards in the process had you melting right in front of him. The waistband of his boxers peeks out from his pants. You immediately recognize the brand he’s wearing by the colorful print on them. And let’s not even get started about his delicious happy trail. It’s a good thing his view is blocked by the fabric of his sweater because you for sure are struggling to keep your eyes to yourself.
“So, would you like some coffee?” He suggests as he folds his sweater over the back of his chair. You’re quick to agree on his offer. “Cappuccino right?”
“Yes, please! I’m surprised you remember how I like my coffee.” You giggle, feeling a blush creep upon your cheeks.
***
Throughout the entire day, you can’t help but notice how Harry’s eyes meet yours a lot more often than he does with your classmates. Whenever you look at him, his eyes are already on yours. He compliments you when you’re working on assignments and you just feel like there’s a mutual connection there.
His distance to headquarters is even bigger than yours, so they offered him a similar deal as they did you. If he has to work multiple days in a row, he can stay the night in between in the same hotel as you all do. He gladly took upon the offer, for him it’s at least a two-hour ride home and that’s if he doesn’t include traffic. And since he works 5 days a week, it’ll save him a lot of time.
During the lunch break, you and your friends are making plans for the evening. Many of your nights in the hotel are spent drinking some wine and just catching up with each other. And today’s plans are like no other. Harry can’t help but overhear you guys talking about the hotel and starts bragging about the room they gave him.
“I slept in room 405 last week. Apparently, all rooms on the fourth floor are deluxe rooms with a bathtub, double bed instead of a twin bed, and a filled mini fridge.” He joins your conversation, immediately planting the idea of asking for room 405 when you check into the hotel later today.
“I never had a bathtub during any of my stays. But all six times I slept in that hotel, I never slept on the fourth floor.” You reply.
“Don’t worry, you’re not missing out. The tubs are too small anyways.” He reassures.
“Your legs are just too long to properly fit into any tub.” You pointed out.
***
All of you enjoy your dinner together. Harry is always left at work for a bit longer after you’re done with the class so he can prepare for the next day or finish up some other leftover work. And to the question of whether he will join you all at the dining table, his answer is always the same. “If I make it in time, I’ll happily join.”
And today was one of the days he made it in time. He sits next to you in the only chair that’s unoccupied. Your friend shoots a glance at you, and that’s when you realize she made sure you sat next to the empty spot.
All of you welcome him to the table before starting small talk.
“Oh, by the way, Harry, I meant to thank you for your advice.” You start causing a confused look on the man’s face.
“My advice?” He asks. “What did I tell you?”
“When I was checking in I asked for room 405 and now I ended up in a deluxe room just like you told us about earlier today.” You giggle.
“Hold on, what room are you in??” He asks, clearly even more confused than he was at the beginning of this conversation.
“407.”
“Ah, right! You got me confused for a second as I am booked in room 405 again.” He explains. “So, we’re practically neighbors!”
Your brain spins a bit at how coincidentally it is of you asking for the exact room Harry is in. And on top of that, you are indeed practically neighbors. Suddenly you feel glad that you aren’t actual neighbors for the night, cause the rooms are very noisy and there’s a dividing door between every other room, allowing them to connect two rooms if needed. You’re not sure what your nighttime activities will turn into, once you’re left alone in your hotel room with just your unholy thoughts of the man next to you.
Your food gets served, you and Harry both choose a different dish. He chose the tilapia filet and you went for a steak. Both are served with some veggies and fries.
“That steak looks good.” He says as he puts a bit of fish into his mouth.
“Would you like to try some?” You ask him to which he agrees. His fork is all covered in the sauce that comes with the fish. So, you cut off a piece of steak and hold your fork out for him to take it. He hums softly as the taste of the steak hits his tastebuds, sending vibrations through your fork.
Harry insists on you trying some of his fish too. So he cuts a piece of, similar as to how you did it and holds his fork out for you to try it.
You’re not much of a fish eater but you can see how people like this particular dish. It’s good as far as how good fish get.
***
After hanging out with your friends on the terras, drinking some wine. All of you decide to call it a night. It’s nearly 11 p.m., and all of you need to be up bright and early the next day for your course.
You hop into the elevator together, all of you pressing different buttons for different floors. Soon enough you’re the last one standing as you’re the only one whose hotel room is located on the top floor, and Harry’s of course.
Your pace slows down when you reach room 405. A deep voice is heard on the other side of the door. This confirms your suspicions, Harry is still up. It seems like he is currently on the phone with someone as a one-sided conversation is heard from his room. You decide not to snoop around, for all you know he’ll walk out the door any second and see you lingering around his door. That’d be weird.
Once you reach your door, you open it with the card and enter the room. You were smart enough to turn on the air conditioning before heading down for dinner so the room was cooled perfectly.
You let yourself fall backward on your bed with a deep sigh. This massive crush on what essentially is your teacher was unexpected. And now you’re full of nerves, jitter, and a lot of unholy thoughts to think about.
You open up your book and try to set your mind in another direction. You have to face the man you’re thinking about tomorrow and above all you need to be able to concentrate.
After 45 minutes of reading your mind is still on the one topic it was before. So the plan to distract yourself failed miserably. The only other option you can consider is taking a cold shower, cause there’s no way in hell you can masturbate to the thought of him and look him in the eye tomorrow.
You hop into the shower. You start at your regular temperature and decrease the temperature with small steps to end with a cold shower. Your hands travel over your body and you notice how sensitive your skin is. You take some soap and spread it all over your skin. Once your hands reach your breasts you give some extra attention to your achy nipples, pinching them between your fingers. You moan softly, god that feels good.
You realize what you’re doing and stop immediately, turning the water ever colder causing you to nearly squeal at the temperature. You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around your body.
As soon as you’re all dried up, you crawl back into your bed and grab your phone to scroll mindlessly through TikTok. First, you clear your notifications but you notice one particular Instagram notification that catches your eye.
harrystyles liked your story 8m ago
It’s fucking past midnight, what is this man liking your Instagram story for?? As if you weren’t thinking about him enough already.
You decide to get out of bed and go outside for a little midnight stroll. The cool and fresh air will do you good. You take your AirPods out of your bag so you can listen to some music while you're at it.
You’ve been walking for about 25 minutes when you step back into the elevator and press the button to the fourth floor. Harry has finally disappeared from your mind, I mean, he’s still there but just less present. You are tired and just need your sleep.
Room 407 is two-thirds down the hall, luckily the floor is covered with carpet so your feet don’t make as much sound. You don’t want to wake anyone up at this ungodly hour. Nerves kick back in the closer you get to room 405. What if he’s still awake, or what if you woke him up when your door fell closed on your way out?
The sound of a door opening is heard and you’re too afraid to take your eyes off the floor. It takes every bit of strength in you to lift your head up, but when you finally do, your eyes are met with the ones you’ve been thinking about all night. He’s changed out of his dress pants and blouse and into a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants.
“Oh, hi.” You mumble. Fuck, you think. You did wake him up on your way out. And now he’s here to complain about it.
“Hi.” He replies in a whisper. Harry heard you walk through the hallway, at least he was hoping it was you. But now that he’s standing eye to eye with you, he suddenly becomes nervous and doesn’t know what to say.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up when I left my room.” You apologize.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been struggling to fall asleep anyway.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m gonna go give it another try though.” You point to your door, gesturing for you to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait!” Harry whisper-yells. “I- uhm. Do yo- uh.” He stumbles over his words. You turn your body back to him, looking at him with your big eyes.
“Do you wanna come with me to my room?” He finally asks and he holds out his hand for you to grab. You’re taken by surprise but after looking at him for a bit too long you grab his hand with a little nod and let him lead the way.
He closes his fingers around yours and takes a couple of steps back to his room, opening the door with his room key. He steps inside the room, holds the door open, and pulls you in by your hand. The door is slammed closed right after you’re through the opening and Harry's strong arms push you against the door.
“Hi.” He says giddy when looking at your lips, earning a smile from you.
“Oh fuck, just kiss me already.” You demand, and he is eager to please.
His lips crash onto yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. He’s gentle but demanding, it’s nothing like you ever thought it would be. This kiss makes you realize what people mean by melting when they’re being kissed. It’s like every inch of your body becomes one with his.
Your fingers graze his hair, pulling him closer as his hands find their place on your hips. He pushes his body flush against yours, earning a moan from your lips. The fingers of his right hand sneak under the hem of your shirt to dig into your skin.
He pulls away after what feels like minutes of making out, panting slightly. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt and he looks down.
“Can I?” He asks to which you agree. Your shirt is pulled over your head in a swift motion, revealing your peach-coloured bra. Suddenly you feel glad you decided to put on a bra when you went for a walk because you nearly decided to not wear one.
“Fuck.” He moans at the sight of you. His hand comes up to cup your left breast through the padding of your bra. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses your neck, up to your ear. You gain confidence from his words and let your hands travel over his chest, down his sides all the way to the hem of his own shirt. You look him in the eyes for permission.
“Do it.” He whispers in your ear while he keeps on kissing every inch of your ear, neck, and jawline. You pull the shirt over his head revealing his perfect abs. You can’t help but put one hand flat on his stomach to feel his muscles and moan softly. Your eyes meet his and he has a beautiful smile plastered across his lips.
His lips are back on yours and his fingers hook in the waistband of your jeans. He’s greedy to get you out of your clothes as soon as possible. He opens the button. His left hand grabs your face and he kisses you passionately on your lips as he puts his right hand in the back of your jeans to squeeze your bum.
“Hmm, you feel so good.” He squeezes your flesh one more time before he pushes the fabric over your ass. You step out of your jeans and push him further into the room. Your lips reconnect.
Harry leads you to the chair in the corner of the room and pushes you down in the chair. Your eyes fall down his body and stay glued to the tent starting to form in his sweatpants. His fingers wrap underneath your chin to pull your face up.
“Eyes up here, baby.” He says. He spreads your legs to stand in between them and strokes his hand over your inner thighs, to your stomach, and up to your lips. He puts his thumb against your lips with his fingers resting on your cheek. You open your lips and softly suck on his thumb getting it slightly moist.
He takes his finger back out of your mouth and his hands explore down to your chest. Both hands grab one boob each and massage your skin through your bra. He makes sure to flick his thumbs over your hardening nipples every now and then.
You sink further down into the chair, practically laying on your back with your bum on the edge of the seat. Your feet are tucked around his waist and your legs are spread open to reveal your clothed crotch. Harry is standing right in front of the chair, causing his crotch to gaze over your most sensitive spot when he moves close enough.
You moan at the pressure he’s applying to your chest. His big hands fit perfectly around your tits and it’s all you’ve been thinking about. Well, not all, but you get the point.
He pulls down the cups of your bra, to expose your breasts. Your nipples are hard and needy. His lips attach to your right nipple to suck on them before he lets go and gently strokes his fingers down your stomach, back towards your inner thighs. The soft touch of his fingertips tickles, sending a buzzing feeling straight to your clit.
He kneels in front of the chair you’re sitting on and wraps his hands around your waist. He places a couple of kisses on your thighs, right next to your core. But never touching where you need it most. He’s making you all needy, drawing moan after moan.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Harry asks. But the view in front of him already gives him the answer he is looking for. You’re dripping through your panties, completely ruining them and every touch is rewarded with another moan coming from your lips.
“Mhm, fuck yes.” You half moan.
Harry finally places a kiss on the wet spot forming on your panties. You immediately put your hand in his hair. After a few more open-mouthed kisses on top of the fabric, he finally pulls them to the side. He lets out a low moan at the sight and smell in front of him.
He attaches his lips to your core, leaving another open-mouthed kiss on your labia before he sucks the juices into his mouth. Another loud moan escapes his lips, you’re sure anyone who’d walk by would be able to hear the both of you.
“You taste so fucking good, baby.” Harry moans. He pushes your panties further to the side and you help him hold them there, giving him full access to taste every single inch of you. He licks up from your bottom all the way to your clit and you can’t help but whine. He continues to gently lick around your clitoris, making sure not to apply too much pressure at once. It feels like pure ecstasy.
His hands stroke the insides of your thighs again while they travel to your core. With two hands, he spreads you open to allow him to stick his tongue inside of you. He pushes in and out of you a few times before his tongue travels back to your clit. Licking and sucking softly, building up the pressure. He for sure is taking his time with you. His eyes are locked on yours to gauge what you like and don’t like. But so far you seem to have entered another world. With your left hand locked in his hair and your head thrown back.
Harry starts to put more pressure on your clit with his tongue making you all squirmish. Your soft moans go up in loudness. His lips leave your clit but his finger is quick to stroke circles around it before he inserts his finger into your pussy hitting you right on that spongy part. His finger pushes in and out of you and his tongue gently swipes from left to right.
He applies even more pressure to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud every now and then. His one finger inside of you pumps in and out, building up a faster pace. More juices start to spill from your pussy so he licks from down all the way up to your clit again to collect your wetness and slurp it all up. It’s a sign you’re coming close to your orgasm. Your legs start shaking around his shoulders and he continues his work, going faster and sucking harder.
Soon you can’t contain your moans and your orgasm hits you harder than it has ever done before. Harry’s fingers don’t seem to slow down though, and his tongue is still attached to your sensitive clit. Your moans turn into high-pitched whines mixed with curse words falling from your lips.
“Fucking hell, please” You moan, trying to push his face away from your cunt. His finger falls from your pussy and he softly caresses your mount with a flat hand, his lips are still attached to your clit but he stopped sucking as he moans loudly. The vibrations of the sounds he’s making shoot right through your body. He completely removes his face from you and wipes the wetness from his chin.
“God, I wanna do that again. You sound so fucking pretty.” He tells you before he connects his lips to yours. The tangy taste of yourself is all you can focus on, making you feel dizzy.
Harry looks you up and down. He gets up off his knees so he can finally drop his sweats to the floor. The erection in his loose-fit boxers makes you curious, but it gives you a good idea of how big he is.
He holds out his hand for you to help you get up from the chair. His arms wrap around your body once you’re on your feet and he kisses you deeply. His hands take hold underneath your bum.
“Jump.” He commands and you listen without a second thought. You wrap your arms around his middle and his erection softly presses into your core. You moan and nestle your face into his neck. Your hips try to grind down on him, although you’re not as successful as you’d hoped. Harry walks to the end of the bed to place you down.
“Let’s get you out of these.” You say as you put your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. You pull them down so he can step out of them. He pushes you on your shoulders, tipping you over so you’re lying on your back and his hands hold your knees to spread them open again. With one hand he pumps his cock a few times and with the other, he pushes your panties back to the side before he pushes the tip of his cock through your folds.
“Shit, a condom.” He curses. “I don’t know if I have one.” He says honestly. It’s not like he thought he was getting laid during his work trip so he didn’t pack any. He rushes to his wallet in hopes of finding one in there. He opens the coin section and is happy to be greeted by a silver foil. He takes it out before he returns to you and puts on the protection.
He goes back to what he started. He rubs the tip of his now rubber-covered cock over your clit, stimulating the sensitive nub. You immediately are a moany-mess again before he slides his tip down and inters your cunt. He pushes in and out, going deeper with every thrust. His thrusts are gentle as he knows you’re close to being overstimulated.
His hands hold your thighs down before he starts moving back and forth at a faster pace. He bends down to attack your right nipple with his mouth. He sucks sharply and licks over the hard bump.
The bed starts squeaking loudly when he holds you down around your hips to be able to fuck up into you faster. His skin slaps against yours making the most erotic sounds audible in the hallway and possibly in the neighboring rooms.
Harry wraps his hand around your neck, not really applying pressure but just holding you in place as he trusts into you slower but with more power. Smacking his pelvis against your clit with every trust. Your panties slipped back down covering half your labia again.
“Let’s get these out of the way.” You laugh. Harry pulls out so you’re able to remove your underwear but he’s back inside of you as soon as possible. He’s bucking up, trying to hit your G-spot every time he pushes in. And he knows he’s doing a good job as your moans went up a pitch again.
He grabs your hips and keeps fucking you hitting your G-spot hard every, single, time. The trusts change from hard and deep to soft and fast. Giving you a whole other sensation. He keeps switching between the two different paces until he finds you squirming underneath him again. He bucks his hips hard and deep into you and after a few more trusts you reach your second orgasm, screaming and squirting all over him.
You were about to apologize but Harry has already attached his lips to your cunt to lick up all the leftover juices. He’s moaning loudly as he’s trying to clean you up. Your own moans become quieter and turn into soft hums as you nestle your hand into his hair, grabbing him tightly.
He starts assaulting your clit like he used to when you were sitting in the chair. His tongue is doing wonders on your overstimulated clit and it only takes a couple of strokes of his wet muscle to get you to reach your height again. This time however it feels shorter and less intensive, but still your moans picked up again. It’s like music to Harry’s ears.
“Fuck, Y/N, you are so fucking perfect.” He moans, kissing you sloppily. His hips meet yours and both of you hum to the feeling. Harry takes a hold of his cock and guides it back inside of you. His hips grind over yours, giving you way too much stimulation but god does it feel good.
He places his left foot on the bed next to your bum and starts pounding into you. He puts one of his hands on top of your mouth as you can’t contain any of the sounds you’re making. Harry knows it’s already too late when it comes to waking up the neighbors but he doesn’t wanna keep bothering them all night.
Never have you been fucked this hard, fast, and deep all at the same time. It’s starting to feel overwhelming and you can’t stop whining at how good you feel. Harry keeps miraculously pounding into you as he starts to moan loudly himself as well.
His moans send shivers down your spine, he sounds otherworldly. The deeper his moans get, the sloppier his trusts become. He spills all of his cum inside of the condom before his moans quiet down and he pulls out. He’s panting loudly and he gently swats the back of your thigh twice. He rubs his cock up and down your pussy one more time before he kneels down again and licks your pussy clean.
“Stay where you are.” He says and places a quick kiss on your lips. He walks to the bathroom to toss the condom and grab a damp towel to properly clean you up. He dabs the lukewarm towel to your overstimulated core and softly strokes the fabric down once or twice. He puts the towel down on the floor where all of your juices squirted in an attempt to minimize the mess.
“There, now let’s get comfy.” He says and gets into bed. “Do you want a shirt?” He asks to which you nod. He gets up to grab his white tee from before and hands it to you. It smells deliciously like his skin in the best way possible. You put it on and it reaches up to your upper thigh.
Harry lays back down in bed and you crawl next to him. He naturally opens his arms for you to cuddle up to him.
“I‘ve never been fucked that good.” You chuckle as you take a deep breath. The room smells and looks like sex but neither of you seems to care.
“Hmm, you felt so good.” Harry’s ego boosts at your comment. And if he’s honest, he’s never been with someone he enjoyed so much and he simply can’t wait to do it again. “I hope you’re going to stay the rest of the night, right?” He asks.
“I didn’t plan on getting up, I’m way too comfortable here.” You reply to which Harry only pulls you in closer. He places a soft kiss on your forehead with a soft hum.
“Goodnight, baby.” He whispers to which you answer a simple goodnight.
***
You wake up the next morning with Harry’s body wrapped around yours. The sound of your alarm was ringing from the nightstand. It’s a good thing you charged your phone last night when you were trying to sleep otherwise it would’ve been out of power and therefore not been awakened.
“What time is it?” Harry asks, his voice low and sexy as he’d just woken up.
“7:30.” You answer, to which he shoots up.
“Shit, I forgot to set my alarm. I need to be at work in an hour.” He sighs, but actually, he doesn’t really care. He has the most beautiful girl lying in his bed, breakfast can wait for once and he can also head to work half an hour later, he already prepared everything for today anyway.
He lays back down and rolls on his side to face you.
“Hi.” He says.
“Hi.” You reply, and both of you laugh softly.
“So, I hope you have no regrets from last night. I didn’t mean to push you into anything you didn’t want.” Harry says, to which you take his face between your hands to pull him closer. You connect your lips to his.
“Not one single bit.” You reply before Harry deepens the kiss. His cock is already hard, as most men wake up with an erect member. But the beautiful girl in his T-shirt next to him is making him lose his mind.
His hands travel down her side and cup her pussy. One finger gently slides between her already damp lips and rubs circles around her clit.
“Har, we don’t have time for this.” You whine and he knows you're right. He sighs before he takes his fingers back from your pussy and licks the tip of his finger clean.
“I’m sorry. You’re just irresistible.” He flirts.
“It’s gonna be a long day then.” You joke, neither of you had thought about having to go through today and act like nothing has happened.
“We’ll see about that.” He argues as if he doesn’t think there’s going to be a lot of tension. “Let’s just get ready for breakfast.” He says and gets out of bed to get dressed.
You sit up and think for a bit. All your stuff is two rooms down the hall and you don’t feel like getting into your nasty clothes from the day before, especially those panties which are ruined.
“Can I borrow your sweatpants for a bit?” You ask Harry. “I need to go to my room to get ready.” You explain. He grabs his sweats off the floor and hands them to you. You’re now wearing the complete outfit Harry was wearing when he pulled you into his room.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You say before kissing him once again and head out to your own room.
You took a quick shower to rinse off the sweat of the night before, brushed your teeth, and got dressed in a fresh set of clothing.
When you’re all set and ready, you grab your room key and exit your room. You walk the short distance down the hallway to Harry’s room and raise your hand to knock on his door but he already has it opened before your hand can hit the wood.
“Let’s go get some fuel.” He says and grabs you by your hand. He leads you all the way to the elevator. He pressed the button to the ground floor where the breakfast buffet was.
The elevator stops at the second floor. You quickly pull your hand back as you know there are classmates sleeping on that same floor. And since Harry and you haven’t discussed anything about how to move forward, you’d rather not get the confrontation in the middle of an elevator. However, luckily it wasn’t someone either of you knew.
Once the both of you enter the restaurant, Harry a few steps ahead of you, you notice all your classmates who also slept in the same hotel already sitting at your designated table.
“Wow Harry, we thought you had already left. You’ve never been this late before.” One of them recalls.
“Yeah, you’re always the first to eat and the first to leave.” Someone else joins in.
You don’t know where to look or what to say. It feels like getting caught as you are well aware of the reason why Harry hasn’t eaten yet. Both of you decide to go fill up a plate with a delicious breakfast and just try to ignore the comments.
“I feel like we’re already getting caught.” You tell him as you stand next to him putting some eggs on your plate.
“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, there’s no way for them to know.” He reassures.
You sit back at the table before Harry does. He’s in line for the coffee machine.
Your friend looks at you. “Spill. The. Tea.” She mouths so no one can hear, but you can see. You giggle to yourself and shake your head no. But she just knows something is up.
Harry walks back to the table with two cups of coffee. He puts the black coffee in front of himself and the cappuccino next to your plate.
“Thank you, ba-“ You quickly stopped saying what you wanted to say, hoping no one had noticed. You look around the table but there are no suspicious looks. Harry places his hand on your knee and squeezes softly.
“You’re welcome.” He says.
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white flag ✹ interlude
note: this chapter is a lil shorter than usual, I just wanted to include a lil bonding moment for reader and ghost before the events of next chapter :)
pairing: ghost x gn!reader
wc: 1.7k
no use of y/n
reader's callsign is 'stingray'
summary: you and ghost go people watching in the local park, plus a little heart to heart
warnings: just some much needed fluff :)
ao3
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one warm shower and a couple of ibuprofen later, you're feeling mostly human again with a manageable headache and a reasonable amount of regret for how pathetic you’d acted. with time you’d get over that, especially now that ghost had finally seen the light and started treating you with some decency. admittedly though, his change in attitude threw you off earlier; you were bracing for a stern lecture and he essentially brushed it off as though it didn't matter, but you’ve decided not to dwell on that fact.
small victories, as they say.
for the very first time, the pair of you were both sitting across from each other at the tiny kitchen table, in your own worlds; the radio was faintly playing some classic rock station in the background as ghost had his nose in his book and you played some mindless game on your phone. you’d honestly prefer to be reading a good book too, but your collection was currently ash in the wind, so this would have to do.
you're tempted to try starting a conversation, the quiet was giving you far too much room to think, but on the other hand the atmosphere is so peaceful it would be a shame to ruin it.
so you set your phone down on the table and turn your eyes to ghost, watching him scan the pages, his head tilted slightly in concentration. he's washed most of the paint from around his eyes – that was probably done yesterday, not that you noticed – so only a few smudges mark his skin. with the black paint gone, you notice the raised bumps of old scars around his eyes, something you'd never paid much attention to before. you know better than to ask, but you do wonder, in the back of your mind, the stories behind all of them. examining them gives you inexplicable urge to run your fingers over them, to soothe the ache having so many of them must cause.
his dark eyes are like black holes, drawing in your attention and refusing to let you escape their grasp. you're vaguely aware of how long you've been staring at his face, but you don't care to snap yourself out of it until he speaks up.
"what?" he grumbles, not bothering to look up from the page. you quickly look away, down to where your hands idly fiddle with your phone on the table.
"question."
"hm?" he hums in acknowledgement, but still doesn't look at you. normally you'd give up at this point, assuming he was completely uninterested in what you had to say, but this time you decide to push your luck.
"you fancy a walk to the park?"
finally, he meets your eyes, looking up through his light eyelashes and blinking once as he contemplates his answer. you resist the urge to break eye contact as he stares right through you.
"...alright." he says, wedging his bookmark between the pages and sets the book down on the table.
you weren't expecting him to say yes, but you're pleasantly surprised that he did; it felt slightly surreal that after all this time, you were finally becoming friends with ghost. your eyes follow him as he stands, leaving the room to, presumably, change his mask while you sit there with a bewildered look on your face.
a minute or so passes before you hear his voice again. "you comin'?" he calls from the entryway, bringing you back to the present.
"oh– yeah, one second!" you jump up from your chair and rush to get ready as well. the grin you wore as you rushed past him to fetch your jacket was unconscious, the feeling lighting up your features and overshadowing and lingering thoughts from the night before.
a few moments later you're tugging your boots on and you're both walking out the door together, side by side. for once it's actually a nice day, so the short walk to the park is a pleasant one under the blue sky and warm sunlight.
"sorry again, for last night. i think that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life." you look over to ghost with an apologetic expression, and you can't help but feel that the expression he gives back is one of amusement despite not being able to see half his face.
"that's twice you've screamed at me now." he says, keeping pace with you for a change rather than marching ahead as he usually does.
"i didn't scream at you!" you attempt to defend yourself, but thinking back on it you change your mind. "alright, the second time maybe i did,"
"maybe."
"but the first time, i was very collected." you continue. "it was quite satisfying, to be honest."
"i suppose i deserved it." his gaze falls to the ground and, even though he's right – he did deserve it – you do feel a little bad.
"seriously, though," you continue, "thank you, for looking after me last night. you didn't have to, and i know you didn't want to, but i really appreciate it."
"anyone would'a done the same…" he mutters, bringing a hand up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. you get the feeling he's not used to people showing their appreciation for him, which only encourages you to carry on.
"and thanks for taking me in, i know having some random idiot in your house is the last thing you want." you give him a warm smile as he looks at you from the corner of his eye.
"well, you're not just any idiot, are you?" he says, earning a questioning tilt of your head. "you're sting. the idiot."
a genuine laugh escapes you, the first one in a long time, and you gently nudge ghost's arm with your elbow.
"oh, lovely, thanks mate." you chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. you see his eyes lift in a barely noticeable smile, the sight causing a warm feeling to bloom in your chest.
you arrive at the park fairly quickly, finding yourselves an out of the way bench to occupy under the partial shade of a nearby oak tree. you're enveloped by a comfortable silence as you both simply observe the beauty of nature and bask in the feeling of the sun on your face.
you're not sure how long the two of you sit there in each other's company, but you find yourself subconsciously drifting closer to him, close enough that your knees just about touch. you're sure he notices – there isn't much that gets by him – but he doesn't show it.
"did you hear they figured out how the fire started?" you keep your voice low to preserve the peaceful quiet, turning your head to look at him as you ask.
"oh yeah? how?"
"ugh…" you groan with the annoyance the memory bring up. "my stupid neighbour left a fucking candle burning all night, the twat."
"what a fuckin' idiot…" he glances briefly in your direction, a sympathetic frown on his face.
"i can never look at candles the same way again, they're tainted now." you drag a hand over your face and shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.
there's another pause in the conversation as you stare ahead, watching the trees sway in the breeze and all the people going about their lives, everything cast in a golden glow from sun.
you don't want it to end, the way the two of you are now. this is the most you've ever spoken to echother, outside of arguments, and you really want to make the most of it.
"nice weather today, right?" you try to keep him talking to you, and you're considering the fact that he hasn't told you to shut up yet as a good sign.
"hm." ghost hums and leans his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. "you gonna ask me what my favourite colour is again?"
"c'mon, throw me a bone here." you turn your body to face him more. "actually what is it, though?"
"...green."
"i knew it!" you exclaim, a triumphant grin pulling at your lips. "it makes sense, you just have 'dark green' vibes."
"i'll take your word for it."
it's difficult to know what to talk about with him, seeing as you've never actually been friendly before and you've already used the only small talk question you could think of.
"hmm…" your eyes roam over the park, looking for something to give you an idea. eventually you land on a scrappy little white dog, with possibly the worst haircut you've ever seen. "look at that woman's dog," you point it out to ghost, snickering at the way it was resisting its owner as she pulled it along. "i feel bad for the little guy."
"is that a dog? thought it was an oversized rat."
"oh my god!" you snort a laugh, covering your mouth with a hand and throwing your head back. you hear ghost chuckle lightly beside you, and when you turn your head to look back at him you find him already looking at you.
all other thoughts leave your mind when you see how his eyes glow a golden colour in the light of the sun. you feel the tips of your ears heating up and quickly face forward again before he has a chance to notice.
luckily another distraction presents itself almost immediately, in the form of a well-dressed office worker sprinting past you at full speed.
"wow," you mutter, your eyes following him as he disappears around a bend in the path, "he's not hangin' about."
"maybe he left a candle burnin'." ghost looks back to you, a playful glint in his eyes you're not sure you've ever seen on him.
you can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his terrible joke. "aw, ghost," you groan, gently shoving him as he chuckles at your reaction, "you're wrong for that one."
ghost slouches into the bench as you both look back out across the park, shifting so his thigh presses against yours ever so slightly. you're careful not to react, afraid that he'd pull away if you draw attention to the gesture, and resolve to just enjoy the rare closeness of his presence.
eventually you'd have to head back, but for now you were more than content to sit here and watch the world go by with him.
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i’m afraid i’m not too specific, i just read your pucker up, buttercup and that seems like what happened before they started dating
i honestly don’t know if you’re writing a multi chapter series about this specific sukuna bf or it’s different from each one, but can you do something like his friend hitting sukuna with the “can i like your friend?” about reader so sukuna becomes jealous and claimed reader
if not, it’s alright, looking forward to reading more of your works :))
A/N: hi! just to clear up some confusion, my General Masterlist is full of works that are stand-alones (not in any series) — but i guess some of them could be read as works from the same universe. on the other hand, all works part of my Boy Nextdoor Series Masterlist are in the same universe/au and the same timeline.
anywho, here’s your request
Sukuna used his jersey to wipe the sweat off his face. The gymnasium was still full of shouts by angry fans, hollers by exuberant fans, and sweaty basketball players — of course including himself.
His team had just won another of their games and all Sukuna wanted to do was to take a quick shower, change, and spend the rest of the evening relaxing, with you. But alas, the duties of a team captain were far from tranquil.
For, he soon heard the squeaking of shoes approaching him. Sukuna didn't turn around, wholeheartedly expecting it to be just another person trying to shoot their shot and get his number. But he was wrong; it was actually quite opposite.
"Yo, Captain! You're close with Y/N, right? Could you maybe hook me up with her? I think she might be the one for me," Jacob — a friend of Sukuna — spoke, in a loud and obnoxiously masculine voice.
Gojo — another of Sukuna's teammates — spits out his water, laughing in the background. "He's gonna be an Adam 2.0*, I'm calling it," Gojo nudged his friend Geto — another of Sukuna's teammates — with his elbow.
*allusion to Oblivion
Sukuna huffed, turning around and raising a brow at the younger man, "Hell no," before walking away to the locker room. Jacob let out an audible 'huh?' before he turned to look at Gojo. "What's his problem?"
"Haha, you seriously don't know, man? Aren't you and Sukuna friends or something?" Gojo continued to laugh.
Geto frowned at his friend's behavior towards Jacob, "Don't worry about it, dude. There's plenty of other fish in the sea . . . just try not to get eaten by shark."
This made Jacob go 'huh?' again.
All the while, Sukuna went to finish up his shower and change, before exiting the locker room and searching for you. He walked up and down the court, waited outside the women's restrooms, looked under the bleachers (in case you had fallen through), but you were no where to be found.
Sukuna was completely and utterly puzzled. Where could you possibly be?
He didn't even get the chance to kiss you after his game; Sukuna's lips contorted into a pout.
Defeated, Sukuna resorted to just going to the parking lot and waiting for you by the car. When he neared the said car and saw your figure already sitting in the passenger seat on your phone, Sukuna started to pick up his pace.
"Hi, baby. Congratulations on your win," you placed your phone onto your lap when Sukuna entered the driver's seat. Sukuna frowned, making you ask, "What?"
"Tch. Nothing," Sukuna crossed his arms.
"You're so demanding," you giggle, pulling Sukuna in by the collar and meeting his lips with yours.
Sukuna smiled against your lips, humming in content.
You pulled away, "Why'd you take so long?"
"Was lookin' for you. But I guess you were already waiting f'me in the car."
"Ah, my bad. Anyways, what should we have for dinner? Or would you rather prefer eating out, since you won your game. It'll be on me," you laced your fingers with Sukuna's on the car's console.
"Let's eat out. And — I appreciate the offer, baby, I really do, but we all know I'm never letting you pay."
-
The next time you go to another of Sukuna's basketball games, Jacob finally grows the balls to talk to you himself — albeit, he was still confused from last week about why Sukuna wouldn't give him your number.
You mindlessly tap on your phone, waiting for Sukuna to meet you at the bottom of the bleachers — where you currently stand.
Out of the blue, you feel two arms wrap themselves around the curve of your waist before their owner pulls you in for a kiss. Sukuna, you think, as you kiss him back.
"Congrats, baby!" You pull Sukuna closer into a hug.
"Uh huh," that was all Sukuna could say, as he focused on making sure Jacob saw that you were wearing the jersey that he had forced you to wear. His jersey. His last name on your back. His team number.
All the while, Jacob stood with his mouth agape. From that day on, he never tried to approach you, much less looked in your direction ever again, in fear of his captain kicking him off the team.
A/N: Sukuna is such a baby, but he's my baby — this wasn't beta read btw, sorry; i cringe while reading my own writing
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore
@deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin
@fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso
#sukuna x reader#ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna fluff#yay another request is done
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The Eye of the Hurricane [19] - Couples Therapy
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: A therapy session can be enlightening.
Word Count: 2300
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
It wasn’t like you thought taking Bucky to couple’s therapy for your technically fake marriage was going to be easy, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.
Bucky bounced his leg beside you on the sofa while you both sat in the waiting room, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment.
“What happens if she asks me questions?” he asked you gruffly and you pulled your brows together.
“You’ll be fine.”
Bucky huffed out and turned to you.
“How about instead of doing this, I just pay you money to walk out of here?”
“Not gonna happen, Bucky.”
“I’ll put the weekend house under your name, you like it there.”
“The weekend house will be mine once we get a divorce anyway,” you reminded him. “It’s on the prenup.”
Bucky licked his lips. “Do you want another house?”
“Stop trying to bribe me,” you told him as he eyed the door to the therapist’s office before fixing the gun in his waistband and you gasped.
“Why did you bring a gun to the therapy?!” you hissed and he narrowed his eyes.
“We don’t know what expects us in there!” he whispered back, making your jaw drop.
“Do you seriously think—Bucky, look me in the eye and tell me you think our therapist is going to try to shoot us in couple’s therapy—”
“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes?” the therapist’s voice reached you as the door opened and you both turned to her before you smiled at her sweetly.
“Hi!”
“You can come in,” she said, stepping aside and you let out a breath, then stood up, holding Bucky by the arm to signal him to stand as well. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was being tortured but followed you into the room dutifully and you both sat down on the couch, the therapist taking her seat soon after.
“Dr. Raynor,” you said and she smiled back at you.
“Mrs. Barnes.”
“Y/N is fine,” you said and motioned at Bucky. “And this is Bucky.”
Bucky gave her a curt nod quietly and you cleared your throat, shifting your weight.
“My therapist Dr. Cooper recommended you,” you told her. “She speaks very highly of you.”
“Dr. Cooper is a very respected colleague of mine,” she told you. “The feeling is mutual. So what brings you here?”
“Well, we’ve just got married,” you said. “And I’ve been in therapy since I was a child, basically. Bucky on the other hand has a more distant stance towards it so I figured it could help us both if we did it together.”
Dr. Raynor nodded and turned to Bucky.
“And what about you Bucky?” she asked. “What brings you here?”
Bucky raised his brows before pointing at you with his thumb. “She did.”
You crossed your arms, leaning back in the couch and Dr. Raynor hummed.
“You don’t think you should be here?”
“Honestly doc, I have no idea why I’m here,” he said. “I’m fine, our marriage is fine, so...”
“It hasn’t been a month since we got married,” you added. “Just putting it out there. But I think it’ll help Bucky if we build this—habit.”
She turned to Bucky. “And how about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about therapy, Bucky?”
“My dad would always say whatever your problems are, they should stay between your two ears instead of anyone else’s,” Bucky replied, bouncing his leg again. “Hate to agree with the guy, but he has a point.”
“George isn’t exactly the epitome of good mental health, Buck.”
Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Either way.”
“Fathers may have different viewpoints especially when it comes to mental health,” Dr. Raynor said. “Given their generation.”
Bucky clicked his tongue. “Well, he and my mother have never been to therapy and they’re fine.”
“Your father had like one thousand mistresses,” you pointed out, making Dr. Raynor raise her brows and Bucky made a face.
“Allegedly.”
“It’s not allegedly, Becca literally told me she once—”
“Bucky, how would you describe your parents’ marriage?” she asked and Bucky heaved a sigh.
“They’re fine.”
“Would you say you look up to their marriage?” she asked. “Or that you want to have a similar one?”
You scoffed. “Good luck with that.”
“You wouldn’t want to have that?” she asked and you shook your head.
“Bucky can’t disrespect me like that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
You pulled your brows together, then shrugged your shoulders.
“Both,” you said without looking at him. “We have a deal, so I believe he will hold up his end of the deal.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the proud smile curling Bucky’s lips and Dr. Raynor nodded.
“Anything else you feel like you took after your father, besides your opinion on therapy?”
“Why are we talking about my father?” Bucky asked back while you tried to hold back the retort. “I thought this was couples therapy.”
“We can talk about anything you feel like we need to talk about,” Dr. Raynor said. “But most of the time, our parents’ relationship is the blueprint of our own relationships even if we don’t realize it.”
“That’s not what’s happening here,” Bucky said, motioning at you. “It’s different.”
“How?”
“What she said,” Bucky said curtly, nodding in your direction and you heaved a sigh. “He’s good with my mom, and he’s great with my sister, no need to talk about him.”
“But not with you?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky dragged his tongue over his teeth.
“He’s fine.”
“Bucky,” said and he shot you a look.
“What?”
“He’s fine with you? Really?”
“Y/N, not everyone needs a father, okay?” he insisted. “Some of us need a boss while growing up in this business.”
“I don’t think you needed a boss instead of a father when you were a kid, actually,” you insisted, making Dr. Raynor tilt her head.
“Would you mind explaining that?” she asked. “That boss comment?”
Bucky drummed his fingertips on his knee.
“It’s a part of…” he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “My father knew what I was capable of, so he pushed me until I saw it. Until I proved myself. That’s not a terrible thing, it worked out after all.”
You licked your lips.
“Really?” you asked. “So you’d be totally okay with following his footsteps?”
That made him stop for a moment and he scoffed.
“Fine, I wouldn’t do the cage fight because that shit’s medieval but it was because he knew I could handle it,” he defended him. “He’s great with Becca, and I don’t need him to be good with me. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
Your stomach did a painful flip. “I forgot about that.”
“Cage fight?” Dr. Raynor asked and you both turned to her, Bucky crossing his arms over his chest. You nibbled on your lip.
“Um,” you said. “Our fathers are... CEOs and we both have family companies. There’s this tradition that—the family company has a boss and an heir and when you’re the heir, you need to show that you can handle the job.”
She frowned slightly.
“And the job can get pretty physical,” you said as Bucky let out a bitter chuckle beside you. “And one of the requirements is…when an heir is picked after years of training and everything, once the boss decides it’s time for them to prove themselves, they put you in a cage with other um—” you thought for a moment. “Some professional fighters that happen to be in the business as well, working under the family. Bodyguards, if you will.”
Not bodyguards.
They would put the heir in a cage with the best fighters working for the boss.
“But usually the bosses ask the heir to prove themselves right before they pass the crown, so to speak,” you said and stole a look at him. “Not George though.”
“I was ready to prove myself.”
“At sixteen?” you asked him. “No one fucking asks that of the heir at sixteen, Buck. My father didn’t even put Ian through that yet.”
“I was already his heir, he wanted to make sure,” Bucky said. “I beat everyone up in that cage, didn’t I?”
“Your nose was broken,” you counted with your fingers. “Three of your ribs, you could barely see through one eye for like two weeks because of how swollen it was—”
“But I proved myself,” he pointed out, making you clench your jaw and Dr. Raynor sat up straighter, trying to shake off the shock. “I’m glad I did it, I’d do it again.”
“You see?” you asked. “And then he asks me why we need therapy.”
“I don’t need therapy,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t even know why I’m here, I'm perfectly fine.”
Dr. Raynor licked her lips, then grabbed the notebook by her side while Bucky pursed his lips, slipping a little on the couch.
“Great,” he said. “She has a notebook and everything. Charm, how soon can we leave?”
*
Well, no one had gotten shot during your first couples therapy session, so as far as you were concerned, it was a success. Bucky had to drop by his office for half an hour to check on something, and after that you figured you could go to lunch together to discuss the next step in your plan so you tagged along.
Becca was already there in his office when you two walked in and Bucky tilted his head.
“What are you doing here?”
“Mom sent me,” she told him before coming to kiss your cheek. “Hey!”
“Hi there,” you said, kissing her cheek back. “We’re going to grab lunch after this, do you want to come?”
“Sure, I could eat,” she said, flinging herself on the couch. “Steve is here too, by the way.”
Bucky frowned. “Did you two come together?”
“Nope, I ran into him by the entrance,” she said while you took your spot next to her and Bucky walked to his laptop to switch it on.
“Mom sent you?” Bucky asked and rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, dad asked her to?”
Becca raised her hands while you gritted your teeth at the mention of George.
“You can’t shoot the messenger, there’s truce now.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m going to get shot by the messenger?” Bucky asked back, making her grin.
“You know how mom is,” she reminded him. “She wants all of us to get along. I take it you’re not willing to have another dinner anytime soon?”
“Fuck no—”
“Hey,” Steve said, knocking on the door and waved at you before turning to Bucky. “You’re busy?”
“Not at all,” Bucky said. “Did we have a meeting today? Did I forget?”
“Nah, I was just around,” Steve said. “Figured I could give you the news myself. Clint is flying to Chicago.”
Bucky pulled his brows together. “What?”
Steve shot him a grin. “My reaction exactly,” he said and came to sit on the other sofa. “How was therapy?”
“Ask Y/N,” Bucky said, clicking on something on his laptop. “She was the one who dragged me there.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “He brought a gun to therapy.”
Becca’s eyes widened. “Did you shoot the therapist, Bucky?!”
“No!” Bucky exclaimed. “Jesus, you two have zero trust in me.”
“How was it, really?” Steve asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.
“He’ll find it easier in the following weeks.”
Bucky frowned at you.
“Following weeks?” he asked. “We’re going there again?”
“Bucky, therapy is not like getting vaccinated,” Becca pointed out. “You can’t just have one session and expect it to fix your shit.”
“I don’t have the time—”
“I already talked to your assistant for the next month, try me,” you said sweetly and Bucky let out a groan, then turned to Steve.
“What is it about Clint and Chicago?”
“Well, he seems to believe that he can convince Rhett.”
Becca’s head whipped up and she blinked a couple of times while you tried to keep a straight face, and subtly pressed your index finger on your lips, giving her a slight grin. She let out a breath, then turned to Steve while Bucky scoffed.
“Yeah, that’s impossible.”
“What’s that about Chicago?” Becca asked and Steve heaved a sigh.
“Chicago’s prince became the new king recently,” he explained. “I thought it was hard to talk to his father, I spoke way too soon.”
“Yeah, he’s a dickhead,” Bucky pointed out while you bit inside your cheek to keep your laughter in. Becca sat up straighter.
“Why?”
“He doesn’t trust anyone who’s not from Chicago,” Steve said. “Refuses to do business with anyone else.”
“But doesn’t he kind of have to do it?” Becca asked. “Even we do business with other cities.”
“Chicago is different, Bec,” Bucky said. “They have their own rules, and as of now, they don’t actually need other cities.”
“Word on the street they might have to do it soon though,” Steve said. “Every boss in New York is trying to convince him, but as Bucky said, he’s a dickhead so…”
“That’s pointless, I’m telling you,” Bucky said as he typed at his laptop, then slammed the lid shut. “Okay, I’m done. Lunch?”
“I have a meeting with Sam,” Steve said as he stood up from the couch and he and Bucky walked to the door while Becca clicked her tongue, turning to look at you with a huge grin on her face.
“So,” she said and you hummed.
“Yes?”
“I take it he doesn’t know?”
“Nope.”
“None of them do?”
You shook your head, still smiling and Becca let out a laugh, then threw her arm over your shoulder.
“Nice plan,” she said and you giggled.
“Thank you,” you said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go, you know how hungry therapy makes me.”
Chapter 20
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob! bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob au#mob!au#bucky barnes x you
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A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)
Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.
In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright.
My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.
Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.
It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.
This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.
Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.
All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.
Love and good luck.
- Dan
#ywgttn#ywgttn spoilers#i guess? mental health spoilers is a funny concept#love and good luck <3333#also. look forward to a 700 page memoir. dont play with me like that daniel#dan and phil#daniel howell
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I just got this crazy idea with Reader having a pet dog and cat and is always distracted or always talks about there Cat and Dog playing, resting, cuddling with Reader and Vox just being jealous at this point wanting some attention too 😂
What A Jelly TV
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
A/N: Ah yes, the double edged sword- Vox is literally going to fight himself in this one since he himself is a pet owner. And yes, I'm mentioning Vark in this cuz about fucking time LMFAO- another slice of life chapter cuz I love writing these. That and we kind of get weird cuddles with the funny TV man, weird in the sense where it's literally a remote connection. Reader is kinda tired of Vox's shit but oh well HAHAHAHAH-
A/N: By the way, I just wanted to mention that timeline wise- this entire series happens AFTER Hazbin's Season 1. So I'll make references to certain things that happened but because I don't want to intermingle the story with canon lore too much- I made things happen after it all. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this installment- it was a little hard to write since I didn't have a prior vision to it but I think it turned out alright Hahahaha- and as always, Happy reading guys!
Vox would proudly admit he was a lot of things.
The king of the biggest technology empire in all of hell-
An oh so powerful overlord-
A conniving and esteemed businessman-
But this-
This was a new low.
Even for him.
Especially when the realization hit like a sack of bricks to the face.
Vox grew to like your presence in his daily routine-
Most of the time even bothering you out of boredom.
He found he liked your attention, not that he'd ever admit it.
He would rather die twice-
But when he figured out pretty soon that he had to share you-
That didn't really sit well.
"Dude, it's just a puppy. Stop being all pissy already-"
Vox just scoffed, you rolled your eyes at his antics.
You kind of expected it, remembering the incident you had with your initial desktop pet.
Glancing over to the open laptop screen nearby, the small digital Vox just waved at you.
Aha... yeah-
This was pretty expected.
"And they're not going to be here for much longer, just until [friend name] finishes moving into their new apartment."
It was only a little over a week ago when your friend called to ask for a favor.
You assured your overlord buddy that it wasn't anything you couldn't handle and Vox eventually just let it go.
Of course, that was until he found out what you had agreed to.
At the start, he didn't really mind.
Hell, he even showed you some pictures of Vark in return while you guys were talking about pets.
But as the days went on and you acted more and more affectionate towards your friend's pet-
It was starting to get under Vox's skin and not in a good way.
You'd coo and cuddle the little fur-ball so much that it was nearly all he saw whenever you guys were talking.
It also doesn't help that you would end up shifting the conversation towards [pet name] and how cute they were after a while.
Vox understood how it was like to fall in love with your pet, he had one of his own after all-
But he couldn't help the envy creeping in seeing the puppy just napping in your lap.
"It's been more than a week doll, just how much longer do you plan on keeping the puppy???"
You were shocked by the fact Vox had been counting days, you didn't really bother to take notice of it.
Not to mention he seemed a little... pouty even?
You just sighed.
"Look, I'll check with [friend name] how much longer they need. I give no promises. Why the heck are you so grumpy about it anyway? It's not like you're the one taking care of the puppy Vox."
The overlord buffered slightly, why was he...?
Honestly speaking, he didn't really know.
He didn't know why he was feeling the way he was.
Only what caused it.
The freaking puppy.
As Vox stared at the screen, he tried to find an excuse that won't make it seem like he got jealous of your freakin pet.
Well, it wasn't even technically yours.
But that isn't the point-
You just expectantly stared at up at the TV screen while the overlord opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.
Your question was straightforward, no nonsense or beating around the bush-
And still he struggled with an answer?
Soon, a small yip from your lap snapped up your attention again.
You smiled down at the now awake pup and moved to pet it.
Okay that was fucking it-
Static white noise suddenly blared obnoxiously from the TV speakers and you had to cover your ears.
The poor frazzled puppy immediately jumped off your lap and ran off, leaving you and your digital companion alone.
"Ow?! The fuck was that for Vox?!"
He didn't respond to that, just nonchalantly looking off to the side like he didn't just try to destroy your eardrums.
You let out a frustrated sigh, what the hell was this guy's issue???
"Geez, what the hell is up with you today?!"
Vox cringed slightly at your harsh tone.
Okay, he might have gone overboard trying to scare the fur-ball away-
But he didn't think you'd be that upset with him.
Oh well, better to face the music than run.
"Well- maybe if you stopped only paying attention to that fucking fleabag then maybe I wouldn't have to scare it away!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Vox instantly regretted saying them.
It was fucking pathetic.
Your confused expression didn't really help either, he was not going to elaborate-
"You- were you jealous of the fucking dog???"
You couldn't stop the amused grin on your face when you finally understood what was going on.
Not that you would've even noticed anything anyway-
"I- No?! Fuck you!"
This time you couldn't help but laugh at Vox's expense, the TV starting to fizzle and glitch while he uselessly tried to get you to stop.
It was a little...
What was the right word for it?
Cute?
No-
Adorable??
Not really-
Flattering???
Eh, whatever-
Point was, you felt a little fuzzy because Vox wanted your attention.
Like, he didn't know how to ask for it but the fact he still wanted you to just stay and interact with him made you feel funny.
That reminds you-
"Ah! Wait, let me just get something- I wanna see if it works with you-"
"Works? With me?? Doll, what kind of experiment do you want to launch me into this time???"
"Nothing too crazy I promise! Heck, maybe you'll like this one!"
Vox heard your voice call from out of view, the fact you had to run to another room to get it slightly concerned him.
He couldn't tell what you had planned this time, every single other instance he thought you couldn't get any crazier and you just did.
But instead you just came running back with a... pillow?
"Dollface, I think you have plenty of pillows already. What's up with that?"
You smiled cheekily at your flatscreen companion, sitting down on the couch before you plugged in your phone to the pillow.
It was a gift your friend got you months ago that they mentioned would help you sleep better.
The fact humanity managed to put tech in a pillow of all things was still surprising but in this case not unwelcome.
Vox was already surprised that the thing had to be plugged in, but he buffered when an odd warm sensation immediately spread throughout his entire body.
"Wh- What the hell did you just do??"
Your smile soon turned into a grin as you gently hugged the smart pillow, gauging Vox's reactions on the screen as he went from shocked to utterly confused.
It was like he could sort of feel being pressed?
Similarly to how you were hugging the pillow, he could feel himself gently being squeezed.
"So...? Any good?"
"If this is how you're trying to awkwardly hug me then I guess?"
"Ayyyy! It works! Okay, if I give you some cuddles would you stop being pissy at [puppy name] then?"
You knew you won when the screen suddenly tinged pink and Vox just stumbled over his words.
You bit back a snicker as you got comfortable on the couch, shifting slightly to better hug the pillow.
"I'll take that as a yes."
And to no one's surprise, the tech overlord had no complaints.
#hazbin hotel#vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox#vox#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin vox#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#vox x you#get off my screen series
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